


Until You Fall

by Eboni_A



Series: Don't Save Me [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Family, Family Drama, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Siblings, Psychological Drama, Sibling Bonding, Sibling Rivalry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-14
Packaged: 2019-10-02 10:32:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 50,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17262662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eboni_A/pseuds/Eboni_A
Summary: After years of torture and being broken, the archangel Gabriel seeks redemption. Always a runner, never meant to be a fighter, Gabriel joins the Winchesters in their quest to find their mother and Lucifer's son across the Rift and ends up having to deal with trauma, emotions and older brothers better left avoided. (Set in Season 13, an alternate telling that sticks close to canon until it doesn't. ;) )





	1. Chapter 1

 

 

 _Warning: I changed some angel canon details_ _😊_ _._

 

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the laptop this was written on.

 

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Chapter 1

Sam

            It’s weird watching an angel sleep, mainly because I know that they don’t. The only time Castiel slept was when he was practically human after Metatron. I frown, staring at Gabriel sprawled on his back on the motel room couch. One hand rests on the wound in his abdomen I’d cleaned and wrapped up earlier. The white bandage is red with blood, too much blood for an angel to have shed.

            “He’s in bad shape,” I murmur, turning my head to look at Dean. Dean sits at the small kitchenette table cleaning his gun. He does that when he’s restless. “I mean, until his grace levels come back up…” He’s not much use to us. What he has might not be enough to get us through the rift, and it might not even be enough for him to fight with anymore, if he’s passing out from blood loss. “I just… I don’t get it.”

            “And who cares what’s not to get. He’s here, and he’s not leaving. He said it would take time for his grace levels to build back up, but he thinks they will. That’s better than nothing.”

            “D—” I choke in my words as Gabriel suddenly bolts upright.

            “Where—who—oh, right. You.”

            I wince as the archangel winces. Sitting upright so fast obviously hurt him. Gabriel groans and flinches as he shifts around, putting his feet on the ground and looking ready to try to stand.

            “Uh, Gabriel look,” I start. He’s ready to leave, and we can’t let him do that. Not when we need him, and don’t know what the hell he’s running from. I feel, not responsible, but bad that he’s just going out to get into more trouble that he might be too weak to handle on his own. “We don’t know what’s going on here, but…”

            “We need your help,” Dean buts in.

            Gabriel sighs, looking haggard and ready to pass out again, but that doesn’t stop him from pushing up off the couch. “Yeah, not a big joiner.”

            “So, you have better things to do than save the world?” Dean asks.

            “Exactly,” Gabriel says with a flat smile. “Look,” he bends to pick up the leather brief case he’d carried in with him with a grunt, “this has been great, a real thrill. But I really came here for the silver stuff, and since you two are all fresh out, it’s time for me to say _sayonara._ ”

            He backs toward the door, ready to reach for the knob, but the door splinters before he can touch it. He jumps as Dean and I jerk back as well. Two men stand in the doorway, one hulking and bald, the other in a leprechaun suit.

            “Raspberries,” Gabriel grumbles.

            “We’re here for the angel,” the big one says.

            “What the hell are you guys?” Dean demands, then hisses at Gabriel, “What the hell are these guys?”

            “Oh, just Norse demigods.”

            “Demigods?” I blink and gasp as both men rush into the room, the big one grabbing me around the throat. The cliché where your life flashes before your eyes literally happens. I see birthdays, Christmases and hellfire as I listen to Dean grunting and shouting for Gabriel’s help. Blood rushes to my head and pounds in my ears as I choke, the more I struggle, the tighter the iron grip. My vision grays…

            And then I’m sucking in air again, on my knees on the floor. I cough and rub at my bruised throat, vision clearing. I stare at the dead body beside me, and then up at Gabriel holding a bloody wooden sword. His hands shake, his legs wobble. He has a feverish glint in his eyes as he glares at the little demigod in the leprechaun suit standing near Dean.

            “All right, handsome,” Gabriel says, voice taunting. “Ready to die?”

            The leprechaun stares down at his dead comrade, then looks left, right, and runs straight out the door, not looking back, and no one stops him. I worry at Gabriel’s panting breaths. I glance at him; sweat beads his brow and his wound is bleeding again.

            “You okay?” Dean asks him.

            “Y-yeah,” Gabriel says, swallowing hard, but his legs give and he goes down on one knee. “Just—just give me a minute and I’ll go after him.”

            “Nope,” Dean says, extracting a pair of warded handcuffs from his back pocket. “You’re not going anywhere.”

            “Dean…” but I stand back and watch as Dean hauls the trembling archangel to his feet and helps him into a chair. It almost seems like Dean’s being nice as Gabriel leans into him for support and Dean offers it, but then Dean cuffs one of his arms to the leg of the kitchenette table.

            Gabriel glares at Dean, then at me, for a full minute before groaning and pillowing his head on his arms on the table.

            “Let me fix the bandage,” I say. “You’re bleeding again.”

            “Let him bleed,” Dean says. “He doesn’t want our help anymore.”

            “Dean,” I say. Sometimes, I don’t know what to do with my brother. Half the time, I think he might mean it when says things like that. But how can he not look at Gabriel and feel a little pity. He saw him when Ketch first brought him to us, he knew Gabriel was mess, but Dean didn’t see all that Cass and I saw afterward. He wasn’t there trying to get through to Gabriel and watching him breakdown again when Asmodeus came to reclaim him.

            “Fine, tape him up,” Dean says, looking disgusted. “And while you’re doing that, Angel Boy can tell us what the hell is going on here.”

            Gabriel rolls his eyes. “You wouldn’t understand.”

            “So, make us,” Dean says.

            Gabriel’s mouth clamps shut, a stubborn set to his jaw. He’s quiet even as I re-bandage his wound. I know it hurts, and the flesh around the puncture feels disturbingly warm. Can archangels get infections?

            Dean toes the body of the dead demigod while I work. “We have to get rid of this thing.”

            “Yeah,” I agree, as I finish with Gabriel. “You know…” I say to the quiet angel. “We’ll let you go, if you just tell us what’s going on.”

            “Sam,” Dean hisses.

            “Dean, we can’t keep him prisoner,” I say. He doesn’t deserve that, not again.

            “The hell we can’t!”

            “Dean!”

            “Fine,” Dean growls. “Tell us what’s up, Angel Boy.”

            More angry silence, but not a hint of angelic light or temper in his eyes. Is he too weak to smite us? I frown. “Gabr—”

            “Sam,” Dean cuts me off. “Let’s get rid of this body and give this douche-bag some time alone to think. Maybe he’ll be in a better mood when we get back.”

            I frown at my brother and at Gabriel. I don’t like leaving him alone, handcuffed to a table. If he really can’t get free, what if something else comes for him?

            “We won’t be gone long,” Dean says, seeming to read the concern off my face. Dean can be a little intuitive. It always startles me, but I guess I shouldn’t be that surprised. Dean’s a good big brother and he couldn’t be that without being able to read me at times.

            “Fine.” I chance placing a hand on Gabriel’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze before helping Dean wrap up the bulky body so that we can carry it out of the room. “We’ll be back soon.”

            I feel Gabriel’s gaze on my back as we leave and wonder if he’ll still be here when we get back. The handcuffs might be angel-proof, Gabriel might be weak, but he’s still the trickster. I toss one last glance over my shoulder to see that Gabriel’s put his head back down.

            A hint of sadness fills me, and I know I don’t need to worry about him going anywhere.

 

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Author's Note: Thank you for reading. Please comment!


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Notes: Glad you made it to Chapter 2. These first few chapters will stick pretty close to the episodes with some twists. I don't want to go completely AU just yet. :)

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Chapter 2

Dean

 

            Gabriel’s plan for revenge is the dumbest I’ve heard in a long time, because it reminds me of an overdone movie plot. Anyone with half a brain could predict his every move down to his systematic method of killing off the pagan family one by one, working his way up to papa. I just want it over with—but Loki’s a lot tougher than I thought he’d be—even in his hologram form. He kicked my ass while not even being here to do it. I shake my head at Sam as the Loki-hologram vanishes.

            “He went after Gabriel,” I pant before my brother can ask what happened. “He wasn’t ever here. It was a trick.” 

            His face—Gabriel’s face—no Loki’s face that Gabriel’s been wearing for fuck knows how long. Either way, his face threw me off. I thought it was Gabriel, the Trickster, playing another game and pretending to be another stupid character. I mean the dude even has a shotgun case full of freakin’ lollipops. When Gabriel took on Loki’s persona, he did a damn good job. I wonder if anything we know about Gabriel was ever him or just him pretending to be Loki.

            One thing I’m glad he didn’t fake is that stupid accent Loki’s got going on. He talks like that dude from the Princess Bride. _Hello, my name is…_

            I stumble out of Loki’s private chamber with Sam, in search of Gabriel and Loki. The sound of fighting down the hall draws our attention, and Sam and I skitter in that direction, halting to a stop. Around the corner are Loki—and Gabriel. Loki in the same pin-striped suit his hologram from earlier had on, Gabriel in his leather jacket and jeans, getting the crap kicked out of him.

            Dammit.

            Loki screams at Gabriel. “You think that I deserve to die for your spinelessness! You think that my sons deserve to die!” With each shout, he kicks Gabriel in the ribs, the gut. I hear bones cracking.

            “Oh, I should draw this out,” Loki growls, “but you aren’t worth the time it’d take, so I’m going to do you a favor and kill you fast. But I won’t do it with you still wearing my face. You don’t deserve that face. Take it off.”

            He slams Gabriel to the floor with double fists. “Take it off or I’ll rip it off!”

            Gabriel grunts and groans, spitting out blood. He glares at Loki as the god pounds on him, barely able to bring his hands up to shield. He needs help, but… I spot one of those stupid wooden swords Gabriel had brought in. It’s just out of reach.

            “Take it off now!” Loki roars, dragging Gabriel up by his throat and clawing at his face. Gabriel howls, grabbing at Loki’s hands. “Take it off!” the god continues to snarl.

            Gabriel gasps, pushing Loki back, scrambling away, a wildness in his eyes that takes me back to when Ketch had first brought him to the bunker and we’d mentioned needing an archangel’s grace. Is he going crazy again?

            He reaches up with shaky hands, fingers scrubbing at his hairline, before his hands cover his face completely. A heartbeat later, he pulls his hands away and—holy shit. A new face emerges, young with dark bronze skin and greenish eyes. A mane of dark brown hair girlier than Sam’s spills over his shoulders and down his back like a commercial for shampoo.

            “There you are,” Loki purrs, then raises his fists again for another hit.

            I take that moment of distraction and reach that final inch for Gabriel’s wooden sword. I grab it and roll it across the floor in his direction. Gabriel must have heard the noise of the wood scraping the floor, because he whips around, snatching up the sword and, with a sudden burst of strength, rushes Loki. The archangel slams Loki into the wall, his grip iron as he presses the wooden sword to Loki’s abdomen.

            Loki’s laugh sounds breathy. “Of course. Of course, you need someone to swoop in and save your pitiful ass.”

            The guy sure is talking a lot of smack with a sword pressed to his gut.

            “Shut up,” Gabriel growls.

            “Face it, old friend, you are a joke. A failure. You live for pleasure. You stand for nothing, and in the end? That is exactly what you’ll die for.”

            “You first.” Gabriel stabs the sword into Loki’s middle, jerking it up to disembowel him. He holds the wooden blade steady, staring into Loki’s dying eyes, before ripping the sword out. He steps away, letting Loki’s body fall to the floor. He stares at it for a moment, before turning back to me and Sam, looking at us in that foreign body. This guy’s leaner, shorter than—than the other Gabriel we know, but the bruises and bleeding cuts that had been on our version of Gabriel mar this new guy too.

            The new guy shudders, turning back to stare at Loki again and drops the blood-soaked wooden sword. He rubs at his face and stands over the body, unmoving.

            Sam moves toward the new Gabriel, and I watch as my little brother touches the angel on the shoulder. The angel staggers, dropping to his knees and giving a full-on retch. Angels can puke? Nothing comes up, but not for lack of trying. Sam rubs his back as I come over.

            I’m not good at comfort stuff. I really just want to get out of here. I wonder if we can leave Loki’s body here. I don’t feel like getting rid of another pagan god and we’re leaving this place anyway, with or without Gabriel. He… we need him, yeah, but… Sam’s right. We can’t have him being our prisoner. If he doesn’t honor his word, then we just have to find another way.

            I stare down at the new man still trying to get control of his stomach, and put a hand on his other shoulder. Loki seemed like a grade A asshole, but once upon a time, he’d helped Gabriel, and Gabriel obviously still cares about the guy—not enough to leave his guts intact, but enough to be upset over it after.

            “You want us to bury him or something?” I can’t believe I ask that, but if it might make the angel feel better…

            “N-no…” Gabriel’s new voice is deeper than his other. He looks up at me after a minute, his face flushed, eyes still wild. “No. Let’s just… Let’s just go.”

            “Yeah, let’s get you out of here,” Sam says. “We’ll go back to the room and get showers and then…”

            “Then, we head back to your place, I guess,” Gabriel says, “so we can talk about your other-world Michael and how you want to do this.”

            I blink. I don’t think I heard him right. Did he say…

            “Y-you’re actually going to help us?” Sam sounds stunned.

            “No tricks or games?” I ask.

            Sam and I blink at each other before looking back at this new man, still on his knees, still shaking, but slowly pulling himself together. Gabriel runs his hands through his long hair, fingers getting caught. He stops, staring at the dark curls, then runs his fingers over his face. He rises to his feet, finding a mirror against one of the walls and staring at his reflection a moment before laughing, the sound broken and small.

             “Are you o—” Sam starts to ask, but stops as Gabriel whirls around.

             “A deal’s a deal, and besides…between you and me,” Gabriel gestures, the trickster’s mannerisms transferring over to this new body, “tricks are for kids.” He smiles lightly. “I’m going with you. Yay, Team Save World—Free Will—whatever you’re calling yourselves.”

             I stare at him, Sam does. This guy is not okay.

            Gabriel tucks his trembling hands in his jacket pockets. “It stinks in here guys. Let’s go.” He turns, walking down the hall, probably heading for the elevator. He doesn’t look back to see if we’re following.

            I feel Sam’s eyes on me.

           “This is a good thing, right?” he asks.

           I open my mouth and close it. We need an archangel. We came here for Gabriel and we got him, but…

           I don’t know. It just doesn’t feel like a win.

           I kick Loki’s body, staring into his dead eyes—the face of Gabriel, the cocky, chicken-shit of an archangel. A trickster who’d worn a false face that finally came off, but we don’t know anything about his new face. It might not be better, might not be worse, but one thing’s for certain. The big gun we bought to take home is broken and I don’t know if we can fix it.

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Author's Note: Thank you for reading. Please comment :). 


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: I always post the first three chapters of a work all together. After this, I will post once or twice week. This story is complete, as is the one that follows it. Take care and thank you for making it to Chapter 3.

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Chapter 3

Castiel

 

“That is a very old face you’re wearing,” I say as Gabriel re-enters the room I prepared for him. He’d taken a shower and dressed in clean clothes he’d obviously fashioned for himself, seeing as his vessel is smaller than all the other males in house. I stare at the form, recalling it from before—The Before. Before Lucifer was cast out, before the true fighting amongst the high family began, back when the archangels could be seen together, their energies mingling.

Gabriel and Raphael had liked to visit the Earth and walk among man. I heard they asked Father for a way to do so, and Father created bloodlines that produced man-shells strong enough to house archangels. They came and went as they pleased. Following their example, some of the regular angels took visits, able to claim any human as vessels so long as the vessel agreed.

“His name was Cye,” Gabriel says, his voice melodic, “son of Cyrus and Allysiah; Cyrus, son of Farhad; Allysiah, daughter of Laela. Farhad, son of Feroze; Laela, daughter of Minu. All worthy vessels that I loved. I healed them after each possession.”

I watch as Gabriel crosses the room to the bed, not offering any words because it might stop him from talking more about himself.

“When I asked Cye for his permission, I told the kid,” he sighs, shaking his head with a soft smile. “I told him this won’t be like with your parents or grandparents. When I take you, you’ll never come back, and he said—he said there was no greater glory than to walk with me and to die with me.”

I stare at Gabriel. “And when his human mind did quiet and burn out?”

Gabriel turns to me, his eyes large and tired. “When his soul was ready, I returned to Heaven one last time, to escort him and to make sure his Heaven was everything he wanted it to be. And then, I went into ‘witness protection.’”

Gabriel throws himself down on the bed, bouncing a bit and frowning. “This bed kinda sucks. Have those Winchester boys never heard of mattress toppers? Next time we go out, I’m buying some memory foam.”

  
His tone is light, flippant even, but his eyes are bright. I come to the bed, sitting beside him, not sure how he’ll take my closeness. Sam and Dean do this when they talk to each other, and they’re brothers. Gabriel is that to me, though not in the same way he and the other archangels were brothers. We all have the same Father, but as angels and archangels, we’re more like cousins—distant cousins. They ran the house, we vacuumed the floors. The differences in our makeups and power levels is immense. Even drained, I’m sure Gabriel is more than a match for me.

“You never had second thoughts, ever, about coming back?” I ask. “Michael and Raphael would have welcomed you.”

Gabriel closes his eyes.

“Even after Lucifer was locked up, you stayed away,” I say. “Like you hated us all.”

Gabriel breathes carefully, before his eyes open again, sad, the green-gold color seeming to glow from within. “The fighting never really ended, though. And then Dad was gone and things kept changing. And Michael and Raphael, they…I couldn’t…” he stops himself, smiling humorlessly. “Do you know what Dad made me for? After He made Michael and Lucifer, His warrior sons, and Raphael, His scholar, He decided to make one more archangel. He didn’t need any more warriors and Raphael was smart enough for us all; what He wanted was someone to make Him laugh. He wanted to be entertained, cheered, inspired. I was for laughter and music. Fighting was for Michael and Lucifer, they were the defenders of Heaven. Raphael wasn’t made for fighting either. And look where he ended up.”

I frown, taking in his words. Gabriel had always been a practical joker, all smiles and carefree attitude. He’d worn multiple, beautiful human faces on Earth and in Heaven, all of them equipped with contagious laughter, infectious grins and melodic voices. Happy—there was a time when Gabriel was never anything less than joyful. Then Lucifer began plotting against God. We saw less and less of Gabriel, until one day he was gone completely and so was God.

Michael and Raphael had thought the worst, and they’d searched. After an epoch, they stopped, as if they’d learned something, seen something. Perhaps, they’d learned what Gabriel had done and gave up on him as he’d given up on us. Or maybe they thought him dead. I don’t know the reason why they suddenly stopped their searching, but when they did, Heaven continued to move on without Gabriel, and years later, no one brought him up anymore.

“I don’t want to fight, Castiel, and I’m not sorry for that. Every time I came home, from being on Earth, they all wanted me to pick a side. Lucifer wanted me to come to Hell with him, Michael would answer him for me: ‘He’s not going with you. He’s with us.’ And then Dad gave me an archangel blade, like Michael’s and Lucifer’s, and told me I would have to use it. That he’d told Michael to get rid of Lucifer and that Raphael was going to help and so would I. They were all going to fight and someone was going to die,” Gabriel says, his voice toneless, but he squeezes his eyes shut and his breathing becomes unsteady. “I couldn’t be there. Couldn’t watch. Couldn’t take part in any of it, because…” He looks at me. “Did you ever love them? Do you?”

“The archangels?” I ask, startled. I don’t know. They had been there, they were to be respected for their power, but…

“The angels that you grew up with. The ones you left to join the Winchesters.”

A punch in the gut. The ones I left. “It wasn’t like that, Gabriel. I asked them to come with me. I told them that our mission was wrong and that we should be helping humans. It’s not leaving anyone, if you asked them to come with you and they declined. I was abandoned.”

“I asked them to stop fighting, asked Raphael to come with me to Earth. So, by your standards, I was abandoned too.”

“You ran out in the middle of a war where a lot of our kind died,” I argue. “I was trying to make it better. You were just hiding, because you—”

“Loved the people I was running from?” Gabriel says. “So, maybe that answers my question. You didn’t love them.”

“I didn’t say I didn’t love my brethren. I did and do love them, I just don’t agree with them. And there are those that I don’t claim,” I say, my voice as bitter as I feel when I think about the betrayals and savagery that I didn’t know some of my people could even fathom.

“I don’t renounce anyone,” Gabriel says. “You—you’ve killed other angels.”

“Yes,” I say. I’m not proud of it, but it was war. They would kill me if they could.

“I haven’t,” Gabriel says. “I can’t. I mean…” his gaze turns apologetic, “maybe I could shiv one of…”

“Me?” I ask. “One of us foot soldiers? The servants?”

Gabriel shrugs. “You don’t have to put it that way, but you have to admit we’re different. We may call each other brother, but when it comes down to it, we were kept at different levels. My true brothers are Michael, Raphael and Lucifer. We actually interacted with God. When we talk about Dad, it’s like we’re talking about a different guy. He indulged me. Lucifer was his favorite, but I like to think I was second, and then Michael, because he was a pill, and Raphael was really quiet. Dad seemed sorry to give me a weapon, and was apologetic when He told me what He wanted me to do with it. I…”

A deep sigh. “I haven’t ever told anyone this stuff, especially not this, but… the night I left for good? Dad saw me. He saw me and I know He knew. He looked at me for a long time and then He turned and walked down another hall. He didn’t try to stop me. He didn’t frown. He let me go.”

“You think God let you go?” I ask. I stare. Had God let Gabriel defy His Will?

“Like I said, He indulged me,” Gabriel says. “If anyone wanted to find me after all those years, He could have. But He let go.”

“Do you still feel like you can’t kill Lucifer?” I ask. “Do you think you wouldn’t be able to help us kill a Michael from another world?”

Gabriel frowns. “A Michael from another world is not my brother.”

“Lucifer?” I press.

He looks away.

Great. “Even after all he’s done?”

“It doesn’t make him any less my brother, Castiel. I hope no one ever asks me to,” Gabriel whispers. “And this fight—with him and another Michael? This time, I don’t have a choice. I have to join in. It’s all gone way too far and I won’t be able to get back to doing my thing with Lucifer and crazy Other World Michael out there ready to destroy the world. I run and I run, but I never get far enough away, do I?”

I’m silent as he rolls onto his side, shivering as if he’s cold.

“Would you like a blanket?” I ask after a beat.

“Yeah.” Gabriel’s voice is soft. “I’m freezing. These feelings are weird: hot and cold, hunger, weariness, achiness. It’s like some human plague. I don’t know how they put up with all these annoyances.”

I find an extra blanket in the room’s closet and throw it over Gabriel’s thin body, watching him cocoon himself. The shivering slows but doesn’t stop.

“You said Lucifer was low on grace when you two were together,” Gabriel murmurs. “Tell me, what did it seem like for him? To be low? Did he—was he more human?”

“More human?” I raise a brow. “Well, he did try to kill me and take my grace, because he was weak.”

Gabriel winces.

“He was tired after using his powers, and needed to sit and catch his breath,” I say.

Gabriel nods. “But there’s no chance he’s still that weak now. Not with angels out there for him to steal grace from.”

“Right,” I say. I tilt my head, studying the archangel before me. “If Lucifer can gain power in that way and speed his grace recovery, so could you.” If I offer some of my grace to Gabriel…

“No.” Gabriel’s voice is flat. “That’s disgusting.”

“I’ve…” taken grace from others, but I’d needed it, and those others were out to destroy me.

“I won’t feed on my own kind,” the archangel sounds sick.

“If we offer…”

“No.” His words have a ring of finality to them. “Not ever.”

A moment of silence.

“If you want to offer me something I’ll take, I wouldn’t turn down liquor.”

I blink at the cocooned archangel who hasn’t tried to sit up or roll over, yet he wants an alcoholic beverage.

“In your present state,” I begin, “you might become inebriated.”

“That’s what I’m going for.”

There’s more silence.

“Gabriel?”

“Yeah?”

Because no one’s said it, and I think it needs to be said to him, especially after hearing what he claims he’s never told anyone else. “I’m sorry.”

He rolls onto his back so that he can stare up at me, eyes glistening. “So am I.”

“Is there anything I can do to make it better?” I ask.

Gabriel bites his lip, Adam’s apple trembling. “I don’t think there’s anything anyone can do at this point.” More quiet, and then, “But thanks anyway… brother.”

Gabriel turns back on his side, pulling the blankets over his head. His breathing slows, becoming deep and even. Asleep, then. I pat his shoulder and get to my feet. I’m slow to leave the room, standing in the doorway for moments longer before turning off the lights and leaving Gabriel alone in the dark.

“Goodnight…brother.”

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Author's Note: Thanks for reading. Please comment! :D

 


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note: I'm going to update a bit faster than I said, since these stories are done. :D Welcome to Chapter 4

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Chapter 4

Sam

 

            “Fruit from the Tree of Life, blood from a most holy man…” Rowena ticks through the ingredients as she adds them to a silver bowl and crushes them with a stone pestle.

            I zip my travel bag and toss a book in Dean’s direction. He catches it and zips it inside his own bag then yelps as Rowena plucks out some of his hair to add to her mixture.

            My entire body jitters with nervous electricity. The rift, the other world, Jack and Mom. Today’s really the day and I’m as scared as I am anxious to go. What if—I shake my head. What if we’re too late? What if there’s nothing to find on the other side because we took too long?

            I swallow and wring my hands together, attention going to Cass as he enters the room in his usual attire. Gabriel’s not following him.

            “Uh, Cass, where’s—?” I start to ask.

            “He wanted to extract his grace by himself,” Castiel says.

            “Is he okay?” I ask. Our resident archangel is kind of quiet, a little reserved. He makes raunchy jokes every now and again and sometimes laughs with Dean about dumb things that make me roll my eyes. But it seems forced. His grace levels are going up, but sluggishly, and he always seems so tired and cold. He wears his leather jacket all the time and sleeps with extra blankets.

            Sleeps. It’s so weird that he sleeps still, but him resting means that he’s healing.

            “Yes, I believe so,” Castiel says slowly as if contemplating the answer. “He said he wanted privacy. So, I left him alone in Dean’s room.”

            The horrified look on Dean’s face makes me want to laugh.

            “What? No!” Dean’s lip curls and I duck my head, biting back a smile. Honestly, what does Dean think Gabriel’s doing in there? His mind is always in the gutter, but… the way Castiel phrased it did make the situation seem a little dirty.

            “I hate to interrupt,” Rowena cuts in, “but I’m sure I’m not the only one to notice the glaring hole in this plan. When we open up the rift, it gives us a day to find your mum and save the boy. It’s a very big world over there, and you’re not even sure where they are. So…”

            “She’s right. The clock may run out on us.”

            “Yeah, it might,” I agree. Fear and anxiety make me want to jump into action. I check my gun, and catch Dean’s eye as he, Cass and myself move to stand around Rowena and the bowl of spell ingredients.

            “Yeah, well we don’t have any better ideas,” Dean says.

            “Hm, that’s inspirational,” Rowena says, looking glum.

            I don’t know what else to add. We really are just jumping into another world, wishing for the best, ready for the worst. There are way too many things that can go wrong, but we have to try—it’s all we can ever do—and hope it’s enough. Even though it feels like we lose more than we win a lot of the time—Dean and me have been through so much shit and come through it. We’ll do it again; we have to. Mom and Jack need us to.

            “Here it is.” Gabriel enters the room, dressed in his usual all black attire. I still can’t get over his new—old—form. It’s the body of a guy that had to be just out of his teens before he offered himself up as a vessel. He could have been a model for pretentious clothing stores like Armani or Gucci.

            “The final ingredient.” Gabriel joins the cluster around the ingredient bowl and sets down a glowing vial. “A fresh serving of archangel grace.”

            I frown at the tiny sliver of grace inside. It barely fills a fourth of the vial. Rowena picks the glass vial up, squinting at it as I turn my gaze to Gabriel. His dark skin’s pale, discolored bags under his wide eyes. His long hair’s pulled into a man-bun at the back of his neck to hide how greasy the curls are. He looks like Hell.

            “This is what you call a serving?” Rowena ask, quirking a brow at Gabriel.

            “That is the jet fuel of divine emissions,” Gabriel says, sounding a little stung, posture rigid. “It’ll be more than enough to get the job done.”

            He says this with a confidence his facial expression doesn’t quite match. He runs a hand through his hair, then stares all of us down, as if daring us to question him.

            “Okay,” I say. “The spell doesn’t say how much grace we need. It’s probably enough.”

            Gabriel’s shoulders relax, but he still looks awful. Is he going to be able to fight what we need him to? We’re bringing him as muscle to help take on Otherworld Michael.

            Dean nods, Castiel grunts and Rowena glances at all of us before she shrugs. “All right then. Let’s try this.”

            She finishes grinding the ingredients and pours in the grace. A few magic words opens a thin glowing rip in the fabric our world—the rift. It worked. My stomach turns a backflip. Here we go. Castiel, Dean, Gabriel and I stand in a line that slowly moves forward, toward the rift. Who’s going to jump in first? Probably Dean. He always goes—

The opening starts to sag, wilting, weakening, before it fizzles out, disappearing only a few seconds after it appeared.

            We all stare at it.

            “Well,” Cass says after a beat, “that was fast.”

            “One could even say premature,” Rowena says, her tone dry.

            “Uh…” Gabriel’s lids droop as he looks at the floor then slowly back at us, some shame darkening his eyes. “I thought it’d be enough.” He doesn’t have to add that it was probably all the grace he had to spare.

            “All right, great. What do we do now?” I ask. Gabriel doesn’t have any more juice, obviously. We were so close, again.

            “Hell if I know,” Dean says.

            “You do know,” Castiel says. He stares at us, his gaze pointed and serious. “We all do. We need archangel grace. Gabriel is obviously running a little low and we don’t know how long it’ll take him to recover.”

            I glance at Gabriel to see him shrug and bow his head, nodding a bit.

            “So, that leaves exactly one source on Earth.”

            “No,” I break in. No way can Castiel seriously be talking about using Lucifer.

            “I don’t like it either, but there is no other way,” Castiel says. “We need Lucifer.”

            Gabriel looks positively sick. “Say what now?”

            “We need your big brother’s grace,” Dean says, then glowers at me and Castiel. “But just how the hell are we gonna pull that off? We don’t have years to plan, we need it now. What can we do?”

            “I don’t know,” I mumble.

            “Come on, we need to do this quick. Everyone start throwing scenarios out on the table,” Dean says. “Doesn’t matter how crazy or stupid your ideas are, we gotta start somewhere.”

            We sit down around the long table. My mind races through scenarios that all end with Lucifer screwing us over, Lucifer killing us all. My head aches. How are we going to do this—or are we not going to do it at all. We can’t forget about Jack and Mom, we can’t give up, but… I want to punch something. To scream. But Gabriel speaks up before I do.

          “I might have an idea.”

          We all turn to him. “Spit it out,” Dean says.

          Gabriel scowls, then sighs and tells us a plan so crazy that it just might work.  


           

~*~

               
            Gabriel and Rowena are gone for hours.

            “You don’t think they’re just shacking-up somewhere do you?” Dean asks over a double meat ham sandwich and chips.

            I really don’t understand how he can eat in tense situations. I shake my head at him. “Why would you…” I trail off, because it’s Rowena and Gabriel. Neither of them has the most trustworthy track record when it comes to following through on their word and being team players. And both of them are known for…

          “Oh man,” I moan. “Now, that’s in my head, forever.”

          Dean shrugs. “I wouldn’t blame Gabriel for wanting to tap that, but…”

          I stare at Dean, mouth slight ajar. I really shouldn’t react so much to him anymore, but ugh!  

            My brother grins around a mouthful of sandwich but the smile doesn’t reach his eyes. He’s worried the other half of our team isn’t coming back after the first hint of trouble. If I really think about it, what would it hurt Gabriel and Rowena not to come back? They don’t care about Mom or Jack, and if Other World Michael finds a way to come through, no one’s better at hiding than them. Hell, up until a little while ago, we’d thought they were both dead. Lucifer had thought they were dead. But it hurts.

            It hurts because I thought Rowena and I were becoming friends. We have/had an understanding, a shared fear. I helped her. And Gabriel, we helped him get his revenge, we gave him a place to stay and get his mind together while he’s weak. But does all of that obligate them to help us on a mission that could get them killed along with us?

            My cell phone vibrates in my pocket and I pull it out, glancing at the Caller ID and sigh. “It’s them.” Answering, “Hello?”

            “We’re coming in,” Gabriel says. “Open the door. This douchebag’s heavy.”

            My heart skips a beat. Someone’s heavy—oh. They got him. “Dean, Cass, they’re here. Somebody open the door. Th-they’ve got Lucifer.”

            A whirlwind of actions of happen, but next thing I know, Lucifer’s bound to a chair in the library, his hands magically cuffed behind his back.

            “Did you guys run into any trouble?” I ask, looking both Gabriel and Rowena over. Neither looks worse for wear, though Rowena keeps flexing her knuckles and casting wary glances in Lucifer’s direction and Gabriel looks anywhere but at his brother.

            “No,” Gabriel says. “It was easy. Big dope fell right for it. I gotta say I’ve never seen old Luci that pathetic. He sobbed like a broken down old drunk and asked me to end it. Think he meant it a little bit.”

            “Really?” Dean’s lip curls up on one side. “He say what he was so miserable about?”

            Gabriel snorts. “Oh, did he ever. He whined for an hour about Heaven disrespecting him and how he wanted to be a good dad but no one would give him a chance because he’s the father of all evil but misunderstood, yadda, yadda, blah, blah. I’ve never been happier to knock somebody out, actually.”

            Rowena chuckles. “Good form.”

            “Thanks,” Gabriel says, they share a smirk, and Dean’s eyebrows raise. He looks at me, as if wanting me to make a connection…between Gabriel and Rowena. Ah gross. I glare at him for good measure and clear my throat.

            “All right. Rowena, all the ingredients are here. Are we going to wait for him to wake up, or do we just slit his throat now?” It is so satisfying to say ‘slit his throat’ when discussing Lucifer, even when I know we’re not going to kill him right off. We’re just leeching his grace, slowly. But still… I wonder if they’ll let me do the honors.

            “He’ll wake up soon enough,” Gabriel says. “Why deal with his mouth any sooner than necessary?” He seems agitated. “Um, I’m going to…be somewhere else, unless you need me.”

            I frown at him, but Dean beats me to the question. “You all right?”

            Gabriel blinks. “I-I’ll be fine. I just…need air, and a Twinkie.” He saunters out of the room in the direction of the kitchen.

            We all look after him.

            “Your archangel seems to be more than just broken,” Rowena comments. “Do you have another you can call upon?”

            “Really?” Dean asks. “If we did, do you think we’d have Lucifer in here?”

            “I believe her question was rhetorical, Dean,” Castiel chimes in, ever helpful.

            “I know that!” Dean palms his forehead and mutters to himself for a second, and I figure I should say something to Rowena.

            “Gabe’s got a lot going on,” I say. “He’s getting over a really bad ordeal and his powers are on the fritz. And I bet Lucifer’s presence isn’t helping anything.”

            “Like it’s helping me?” Rowena presses. “Look, boys, I’m risking a lot being here. I put my neck on the line to help you catch the devil just now. Your plan is far-fetched, but I have lots of faith in you—I just hope the faith you have in that archangel is as well-founded.”

            “He’s what we got,” Dean says. “We don’t have any better deals beating on our door. A few years back, when we first met the guy, he was a powerhouse. He can be that again—right, Cass?”

            Castiel nods. “His grace was never completely stolen, just depleted. The stores he has will spawn more, grace multiples.”

            “See—”

            “Slowly, depending on how much is left behind,” Castiel says. “Archangel grace reservoirs are oceans to ponds, when you compare them to regular angels, like me. It’s… it’s going to take a long time to fully replenish, Dean. That other Michael has his full grace.”

            “Gabriel can do more damage at quarter grace than a lot of us can,” Dean says. “He may have needed our help smoking Loki, but the way he went about it? I took a few hits from Loki and his kids—Sam did too. That god strength ain’t no joke, and Gabriel killed two of them without our help.”

            “But he did have to use wooden swords because he couldn’t…” Castiel stops at the glint in Dean’s eye. “Well, yes, Dean’s right. Gabriel is stronger than your average team member.”

            “And he’s got knowledge,” I say. “He was the one who told us how to lock Lucifer in the cage.”

            Rowena hums, not seeming overly convinced, but she grabs her silver mortar and goes about mixing ingredients to try the spell again.

            Castiel clears his throat. “Maybe I should go check on him.”

            “You always do it,” I say. “I’ll go, unless…” Did I imagine it, or was there a hint of disappointment on Castiel’s face just now? Before, Castiel had never seemed attached to his angelic brothers and sisters. Back when he was fully committed to what he thought was the right plan, he was loyal, but he was still just protecting other angels out of duty. He’d kill a brother or sister if commanded without remorse. The angels weren’t/aren’t a _family_ -family.

            Well, the regular angels don’t seem it, but the archangels, from the things I’ve heard from Gabriel, I think, were/are different. Gabriel had openly told Dean that he couldn’t kill his brother, Lucifer, and Dean suspected that it wasn’t because he physically couldn’t. Gabriel had said that he loved God and his brothers and had run away because he couldn’t bear to see them tear each other apart. He’d been pissed at me and Dean for letting Lucifer out so that the old battle between his relatives could start anew.

            But, in the end, he’d tried to kill Lucifer—no, no wait. He hadn’t. He’d sent in a decoy and I’m very sure he knew Lucifer would kill it and be fine. And yeah, he’d told Dean and me how to seal Lucifer—seal, not destroy.

            “Cass, if you want to talk to him, go ahead,” I say. Maybe Gabriel can build a new brotherhood bond with Castiel, and forget about Lucifer for good.

            Cass looks uncomfortable as all eyes shift to him. He clears his throat and plays with his tie. Oh, for Chuck’s sake. He’s embarrassed. Now, we’re just going to stand here and stare at each other. I sigh and walk past Cass, patting his shoulder and heading to the kitchen in search of Gabriel.

            I find him sitting on the kitchen island with a box of Twinkies and a bottle of store-bought chocolate milk. I still haven’t asked, but “Is the sweet-tooth just Loki carrying over, or do you—”

            “I like sugar, Sam,” Gabriel says, breaking a Twinkie in half and licking the crème out of the centers of both sides. “Always have. And human desserts get better and better with time. I mean, deep-fried Kool-Aid? Pixie Stix? We won’t even get started on all the things you people do with ice cream. And that organic movement, yeah, some desserts taste great oh nat-tur-ral-ay, but high fructose corn syrup and the artificial stuff that makes Hawaiian punch red is good with me too.”

            I nod. This is why he and Dean get along at times. They both love junk, and grace-depleted Gabriel actually needs to eat, so he cheers when Dean brings home fast-food milkshakes and pies.

            “You know, if you ate things with a little more sustenance, maybe your energy wouldn’t burn up so fast.” I have to throw that out there.

            Gabriel takes a sip of milk and stuffs a Twinkie-butt in his mouth in reply.

            “Okay, keep eating every two hours. Suit yourself.”

            A chocolate milk salute. “What do you want, Sam?”

            Oh. “Just…checking on you,” I say. “You seemed, well… I know Lucifer being here’s gotta be hard on you. And we’re getting ready to go through the rift, and…”  
            “You want to know if your busted archangel is going to fall to pieces before or after he jumps dimensions with you?” Gabriel finishes his Twinkie and fishes another out of the box.

            “No!” Well, yeah, but that’s not all. “Gabriel, we asked you here because we need you. But now that you’re here, you’re part of our team. And we care about our teammates. We need to know if someone’s not okay, so that we can help.”

            “And how will you help?” Gabriel asks, mouth full again.

            “By talking,” I say. “Do you—do you want to talk about it, him? I—you know the deal between Lucifer and me. And Rowena… Lucifer burned her alive. Whatever you have to say, I can probably relate…”

            Gabriel laughs outright, tossing his Twinkie aside and pushing the milk away. “You can relate?” His smile is beautiful, but his eyes are vicious. “You can relate because my brother hurt you? I guess you want me to say he hurt me too. That he violated me or tortured me? Nope. Nope can’t say that. The worst thing he did was cause strife in the family, and that he was one of the ones who tried to force me to take sides.”

            “He killed you, or thought he did,” I say, not understanding Gabriel’s mood. My nerves crackle at the tension in the air.

            Gabriel’s smile widens. “He didn’t want to, Sam.”

            “Wh—”

            “He did not want to kill me,” Gabriel says. “Lucifer is selfish, a prick, a bastard and an asshole, but not big on fratricide if there’s another way. When he thought he’d killed me, I was there, I watched. He hesitated, he warned me, he gave me an out, and when the deed was done…” Gabriel trails off, looking up at the ceiling. “He cried, Sam.”

            Lucifer cried? I stare, incredulous. “You think that he…”

            “I don’t think,” Gabriel growls, “I saw it. He’s… Lucifer, he’s a big bag of dicks, but a sensitive bag of dicks. His feelings get hurt and he throws epic, apocalyptic temper tantrums. He doesn’t know how to deal with what upsets him other than to destroy it. Humans upset him. He was jealous. He was also wrong.” Bright eyes gaze at me. “Don’t ever think that I thought he was right in what he wanted to do. In what he did. The Cage was the best idea, put him away. And millennia later, when all the humans are gone, he could come back out. What’s a millennium to us, huh?”

            “So, what are you saying?” I’m confused. “You—you’re bothered by something. But you can’t talk to me because we’re not bothered by the same thing?”

            “Lucifer’s evil,” Gabriel says flatly. “We’re both bothered by that. Lucifer is dangerous. We’re both really bothered by that. But you hate him, and you want to commiserate based on that. I don’t hate him. I can’t hate him, though I should. I really, really should. And _that_ is what’s bothering me. He’s a terrible monster who’s done awful, deplorable things, but he’s still my brother and when he dies, I’ll grieve. And you won’t understand my grief. You’ll approach me like you did just now, wanting to help, but, because you hate him, you can’t relate and you’ll pity me while thinking: ‘How and why is he so upset over the world’s good fortune. The devil is dead! We should party, I want to party, but I’ve got to deal with a broken archangel who wants to get high on Poptarts and Mountain Dew and blubber over the damn devil.”

            My mouth flaps.

            “I’m better when I’m quieter, hm?” Gabriel slides off the island, putting away the Twinkies and chocolate milk, keeping his back to me as much as he can.

            Maybe he’s hoping I’ll go away and leave him alone again. Perhaps, I should. He’s convinced himself that I’ve got nothing to say to him that could possibly make him feel better. But he’s wrong.

            “Gabe.”

            His shoulders tense.

            “You’re right.” I keep talking, not waiting for him to turn around. I just hope he’s listening. “I hate Lucifer. I don’t understand how anyone could love him, or how anyone might be sad over his death. But I don’t have to understand that to be there for you. As I said before, you’re on our team, one of us, and we help each other. If you’re sad or rundown or hurt, we’ll be here. No one has to talk. We’re your support. I’ll be sad because you’re sad and I don’t want you to be, because it hurts you. That’s all. So, the talk I wanted to have isn’t the one you want, because we feel differently, so let’s talk about something else. Are you scared? Feeling okay? You didn’t sleep so good last night. You tired?”

            He whirls around, expression a mask of astonishment. He blinks several times, tilting his head this way and that, as if trying to puzzle me out. The smile he gives is small, but genuine as he chuckles softly. “You are really something else, Sammy Winchester.”

            “Yeah, Dean says that too,” I say. “But really, how are you feeling?”

            Gabriel takes a deep breath and comes back to the kitchen island. “Drained.” He pulls himself up onto it, letting his legs dangle. “The grace I pulled out for the spell and the power I used to maintain all those illusions for Luci? I needed those Twinkies.” A strange gleam enters his eyes, as he hops off the island again and heads for the fridge. “And these!” He sounds triumphant as he pulls something out of the freezer. He comes back to his island with a large bag of full-sized Snicker bars. “Forgot about these. Slid them in the cart when Dean let me go to the store with him the other day.”

            “Dean bought you a bag of Snickers?”

            Gabriel shrugs. “Don’t act surprised. Who bought the Twinkies and Ding-Dong’s? Certainly not you, Jolly Green Giant.”

            “But Dean…” hasn’t been eating them. I haven’t seen him open one box or heard one wrapper crinkle from his direction. Huh. All this time I thought he’d bought extra junk food to keep up with Gabriel eating so much of it, but Dean never bought Twinkies and chocolate milk before. He’ll eat them if they’re around, but he doesn’t stock our pantries with that stuff. The Lucky Charms and Cookie Crisp and Fruity Pebbles that appeared in the pantry this week are all for Gabriel.

            I smirk. My brother has a soft spot for turned angels. First Castiel, now Gabriel.

            Gabriel sucks on a Snickers bar like a lollipop. “Ah… now that’s good.”

            I come to the island, sitting on it too. “You gonna take those with you to Apocalypse World?”

            “You guys are really calling it that—Apocalypse World,” Gabriel snorts. “Creative you are not.” He nibbles at the top of the bar. “I don’t know if they’ll fit in my bag. I’ve got other rations in there.”

            “More candy?” I ask.

            “And Monster Energy drinks. Those things are awesome,” Gabriel says. “Sugar rushes give me quick power bursts, you know. They don’t last, but hopefully, I won’t need them to. I’ll have done the damage we need.”

            “You practiced this?”

            Gabriel shrugs. “What do you think I do all day, mope? I’m not interested in getting my ass smoked over there. I’m still self-serving to a fault. I don’t want to die.”

            I hum. Over the course of a week, Gabriel’s settling in had involved him spending time alone, exploring the bunker. We go hours without seeing him. Hearing that makes me feel a lot better about bringing Gabriel with us, and lot guiltier too, as I realize I’m not excited that the archangel isn’t as likely as I thought to get himself hurt or killed. I’m excited that we may have more of a fighting chance to get Mom and Jack back. Gabriel has back-up cannons.

            “You’re pleased,” Gabriel says, finally biting the head off the Snickers bar. “Which means you’re smarter than I gave you credit for. You don’t want to die or sacrifice yourself over there anymore than I do. But you were willing to.”

            It’s my turn to shrug. “If I have to, I will, for Mom and Jack.”

            “Who’d then have to live without you,” Gabriel says. “Because a candy bar might give me detonation power, but it’s not enough juice to raise your ass from the dead.”

            “Would it be a Snicker-rection if it could?”

            Gabriel raises both brows at me. “Sammy, that’s awful. Stick to being sensitive and serious.”

            I laugh. “Only if you agree to talk to us more, man. I mean, this isn’t so bad is it?”

            Gabriel sighs and shakes his head. “No. Not really.” He picks at the exposed caramel and peanuts in his candy. “So, uh, since we’re talking. Can I ask…” He bites his lip. “If it—if it comes to it…” he stops, swallows, starts again, “if it comes to it… don’t ask me to, okay?”

            “Don’t ask you to what?”

            “Don’t ask me to kill, Lucifer,” Gabriel murmurs. His face is grave, almost haggard. He said he feels drained and he looks it. “Please don’t.”

            The only thing that can possibly kill Lucifer is an archangel blade, and only an archangel can wield one to its potential. Unless Otherworld Michael kills Lucifer, the only other being who can is sitting right in front of me, begging not to be asked.

            However…

            My teammate doesn’t want to be pressured into killing his brother.

            “I won’t ask that of you,” I say quickly, confidently, “ever.”

            Gabriel looks at me for a long time, before nodding slowly and going back to his candy. I need a minute to breathe. Something cold and hard is pressed against my knuckle and I look down to see an ice-cold Snickers resting near my fingers.

            I grin as I take it. What the hell, one Snicker isn’t going to kill me. I tear open the wrapper, and toast the chocolate against Gabriel’s. We eat in companionable silence, until Rowena’s voice calls from the library.

           “He’s waking up!”  
           Shit.

            I nearly choke on a peanut and glance at Gabriel who’s gone ashen. He sets down the candy, looking at me to act first. “You want to stay in here for a bit longer?” I ask.

            He shakes his head after a beat, gathering up the candy bag and slipping off the island. “A bit longer isn’t going to change anything. Just remember what you said.”

            I nod at him, touching his shoulder briefly, before following him out of the kitchen.

* * *

 

 Author's Note: Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think! :D


	5. Chapter 5

Author's Note: This chapter sticks very close to the episode it comes from with some twists and interpretations. I don't want to go completely AU from the show just yet, but it's coming, I swear. Welcome to Chapter 5!

* * *

 

 

Chapter 5

Dean   


            Every time I cross over to this place, it’s always in a different location. I’m starting to think it’s not possible, no matter what we do, to determine where we’re gonna pop out at. We’re days away from where the kids, Maggie and Floyd—freakin’ Floyd—say Mom and Jack are supposed to be, and about to go through a tunnel that’s allegedly crawling with monster vamps.

            Sam and Cass are ready, hunting knives and guns out, flares around their necks. Gabriel looks put out and pouty. He had voted not to come this way and gotten overruled. Shortcuts are always good when people we need to save are on the other side of them. We can deal with a bunch of super ugly vamps. And we’d deal with it while keeping those kids alive too.

            We slip into the mouth of the cave, me in front, Sam watching the rear, Gabriel and Castiel stay in the middle with Maggie and Floyd between them, angel blades out. No one speaks, our every focus is on listening out for foreign movements. The kids behind me breathe too loud, scared out of their minds, no doubt, but making more noise than I think they should. But what can I say, ‘Stop breathing’?

            I hate to admit this, but maybe Gabriel was right. Not our world, not our fight. We’re here to rescue Mom and Jack, and bringing along two strays is going to slow us down and maybe even get us hurt trying to protect them. But it’ll be a cold, cold day in hell before I agree with an angel—other than Cass. Gabriel’s different than the others, but he’s still got some of that angel ‘humans don’t matter that much’ mentality. He’d been willing to let Michael and Lucifer rumble and kill most of the human population while he sat back. Yeah, he’d given us information about the Cage, and thought if anyone could get it open, we could, but he’d left it at that. If we failed, which was a big ‘if’ because it was a long shot, he’d have been okay with that too. Hell, he’d gone as far as to fake his own death, so we wouldn’t bother him for anymore help.

            But, aside from Cass, it’s more than we can expect from any angel. They’re not like us, they don’t feel things like we do. Though, I kind of think archangels may be a little closer to us than the regular angels. Gabriel genuinely seemed to care about his douche-bag archangel brothers. I saw in his eyes that the reason he didn’t want to help us kill Lucifer wasn’t out of fear or self-preservation. He didn’t want to gank his big brother. He was royally pissed when I talked shit about Michael and everyone else. He reminded me of, well, me. I can talk crap about my family, but no one else better do it, because they’re mine, and though I may not like them all the time, I love them. Gabriel had claimed to love his family and that it had hurt too much to watch them tear each other apart.

            He’d cared about Loki too, and Kali, and those other pagan gods, though he’d been willing to sacrifice them. When Cass first came to us, he was cold, mechanical, loyal to his cause, an angel robot, but he changed for me, for Sam. I don’t think Gabriel changed for anyone, think that this is how he always was. Makes me wonder about Michael and Raphael, and even Lucifer. Did they all care about each other? I chance a look over my shoulder at Gabriel. Unsmiling and tense, the new face he’s sporting is alert and ready for action. Castiel told me Gabriel’s vessel is thousands of years old, though it looks about 19 or 20. The archangel had taken that guy when he was just a kid. Did he care about cutting the kid’s life short? Does he think about who that person was or could have been?

            Castiel’s vessel had been a grown, established family man, who’d said ‘yes.’ But who had also changed his mind—but then died. Castiel isn’t a body-jacker if the body’s dead, right? In that way, angels aren’t much better than demons, except that the vessel has to accept them first. But even then, the poor devoted human can’t have any idea what they are signing themselves up for. And if the angel never leaves, then that’s their life right there, trapped until they die, knowing that their face will probably live on. No one else will ever know that they were locked inside.

            My stomach churns and I turn my thoughts off, going into autopilot as we decapitate a few vamps that throw themselves in our path. So far, so good. This is nothing we can’t handle, but I guess I see how Maggie and Floyd’s travel group was taken out. Unsuspecting, non-hunters wouldn’t know what to do if more than one vamp jumped out at them.

            Hours of walking with one or two breaks in between, brings us to what seems like a dead end, but after careful inspection, I see an opening. “Guys, we got a blocked passage over here. Need to move some rocks.” And when I say ‘guys’ I mean our resident angels. Even at quarter and half power, they are physically stronger than most humans. I sneer at Gabriel’s rolling eyes.

            “Yeah, I mean you too, princess,” I snap.

            Castiel utters something to Gabriel who stares at him incredulously before looking heavenward and following Castiel. I make a show of pushing at one of the bigger rocks and Castiel joins, his added strength making the rock seem like a marshmallow. Gabriel groans and moves to another rock, shoving it aside with barely a grunt. He could probably clear the way himself, but he doesn’t offer to give me or Cass a break. Sam stands back with Maggie and Floyd, holding a flashlight on Cass, Gabriel and me as we work.

            “Once we clear all these rocks, are we sure going down the rest of the path will be safe?” Gabriel asks, dubiously peering into the new opening we’re making. He pops a squat on one of the rocks he pushed aside and rifles through his pack, pulling out one of those nasty Monster Energy drinks he prefers over coffee, unless the coffee’s covered in whip cream and sprinkles. I would complain about him taking a snack break, but he’s starting to look rundown and I learned from Cass that rundown angels start needing the same things that humans do after a while. If a surge of sugar can get Gabriel back to work, he can have it. Hell, I buy him enough of the stuff when he makes eyes at it in the store.

            I do feel bad for the guy. He’s a jerk and a coward, but nobody deserves to be tortured, ever. I know what it’s like, after decades on the racks down in Hell. Asmodeus, Alastair, demons live and breathe pain and suffering, and for Gabriel to have been down there for centuries, I don’t envy his experience. A couple of candy bars won’t make it go away, but if he enjoys them and they’re cheap, I’ll keep restocking pantry.

            “Dean…” Sam’s voice sounds farther away than it should.

            I look out, not seeing him… and then the inhuman snarling and human screaming starts.

            I don’t wait for Cass and Gabriel to fall in behind me before I’m charging to the place I’d last seen Sam. I hear Maggie and Floyd yelling and struggling. Sam throws a vamp off Maggie, killing it and proclaiming: “I got it.” But more materialize, showing their nasty teeth and grabbing at Maggie and Floyd. Sam’s got himself handled, I go after Maggie. I’m not letting a girl get eaten by vamps on my watch.

            A bloodsucker pins me to a wall, and I fight to break its grip, looking straight at where Sam’s grappling with two at the same time. These monsters are freakin’ strong, stronger than they should be. Where are Cass and Gabriel?

            “Sammy!” I shout as one of the vamps lunges for Sam’s throat. Oh shit. Oh shit.

            A flash of blue light and the lunging vamp goes up in flames. Sam’s got one arm free, flailing, but not fast enough to stop the other vamp from biting down into his jugular.

            Oh, Sam. Oh shit. Where’s that angel fire again? Cass and Gabriel stumble onto the scene. Gabriel’s eyes glow with blue light. The other vamp starts to burn, but not before he rips out….

            Oh God…

            Three more vamps appear, as Sammy chokes, blood spewing from the wound, and the vamps drag him away. I kill the bastard vamp holding me against the wall with strength I didn’t know I had and surge toward the vamps taking Sammy away.

            “Burn them up!” I holler at Gabriel, not turning around to see if he’s listening to me. Where’s the fire? Where’s the fucking fire? A heavy weight jumps me from behind, snarling and clawing—another vamp. I throw it off.

            Castiel yells Sam’s name, chasing after the vamps dragging Sam away.

            I sling off another vamp and whip out my shot gun, blowing off its head. I should have had the damn gun out the whole time. “Sam!” I charge toward the passage Castiel had thundered down, leaving Maggie and Floyd to fend for themselves.

            “Sam!” I shout down the tunnel, my voice echoing.

            A shape appears, vamp, Sam, I can’t tell—and then Castiel is in front of me, grabbing my shoulders. “He’s gone, Dean.”

            “No!” I push past him but Castiel grabs me, pulls me back.

            “Dean, we don’t have time,” he hisses. He turns me to face him, his eyes boring into mine. “We can’t save him.”

            I pant, staring past him into the darkness where Sam had gone. Sammy. I…they can go on without me, find Mom and Jack and do what needs to be done. I can get Sam. We’ll meet them… images flash before my eyes, of that vamp ripping out…

            The blood.

            The amount of blood that…

            Oh God.

            I swallow hard, staggering away from Cass. Turning to walk forward, back to the path we’d just about cleared. Gabriel’s on his knees, staring in the direction Sam had gone. Broken Angel Boy with his angel fire hadn’t been enough. He’d been too slow.

            I stagger past him without a word.

            I can’t talk now.

            Gotta keep going.

            Mom and Jack.

            Sam would want that.

            Behind me, I hear the others whispered and starting to move, to follow.

            Gotta keep going.

 

~*~

 

            We travel a few more hours, out of the tunnel, back across the withered lands. We set up camp because the kids and Gabriel need sleep. I sit up all night with Cass, staring off into space, glad he’s not trying to talk to me. He doesn’t even tell me I should sleep or eat. He lets me pack up camp the next morning without taking food or water and marches behind me with the others.

            We trudge on for hours more, no one asking to stop. They might be afraid to ask and I don’t know why. If they want to stop, they can. I’ll just leave them behind. Find Mom. Find Jack. Make sure Cass will take them back home. Then, I go back for Sam.

            Grass and twigs crunch a few steps behind me. Maggie’s jogging to catch up to me. “H—hey… About your friend. I’m so…” she stops as I turn to look at her. Her pale, dirty face falls and she slows her steps, so that I’m ahead of her again.

            We walk for another hour. I hear plastic crinkling—Gabriel and his damn candy. That candy hadn’t helped Sam. I blink, seeing Sam struggling between the two vamps. Seeing the angel fire burn the first one that dared try to bite him, seeing the second set of flames, weaker, almost ghostly, not burning the second vamp up fast enough. Blood erupts like a small geyser from Sammy’s neck. Not a bite, a gouge. That thing tore out my brother’s throat before the flame ate it up. And no more flames came for the monsters that took Sam away.

            I swallow hard, bile sour at the back of my throat.

            We cross a wooden bridge with no rails, the only thing that lets me know we are actually moving forward. The rest of the terrain looks the same, no distinguishing landmarks, until we reach a copse of trees. Castiel grunts and I stop for the first time in hours, turning to look at him.

            His face is strained. “Ah…there’s warding. It’s too strong.”

            I frown and study the trees, noticing the wooden boards nailed to a few of them with runes carved into them. Someone’s been here, resistance definitely. I listen for signs of life outside of our little group as Gabriel approaches one of the runes. He touches his blade to it, scratching it, then pressing his fingers to the wood. The mark burns a bloody red that spreads to the runes, and Castiel’s body relaxes.

            That calls two things into question: Is Gabriel too strong for the wards to keep out—meaning archangels are too strong for the wards and meaning these marks of protection are shit against Michael. Or… is our archangel so weak he’s not affected by the wards? Either way, he rendered them useless in less than a minute’s time.

            A twig breaks and I snap to attention, gun up as an armed man in fatigues comes out of the woods.

            “Whoa, whoa,” Castiel says. “Easy, we’re friends. We’re here looking for…”

            A beautiful blond woman steps into sight, shotgun at the ready, until she recognizes Castiel. She stares then grins and comes to him, arms out for a hug. I watch her, whole and unhurt, tough and always ready for a fight.

            She turns from Cass to me and suddenly I can’t move, so she does.

            She walks to me, wrapping her arms around me, hugging me close and saying my name. And then she asks…

            She asks.

            “Where’s Sam?”

            I swallow again. Her beautiful blue eyes are on my face, looking so hopeful, so happy and then that look fades as she asks me again. “Where’s Sam, Dean?”

            For the first time, since they dragged him away, since I saw his throat and the blood… warm, wet tears roll down my cheeks. I can’t speak, but I don’t have to.

            Mom’s hands on my shoulders tighten, her own eyes filling.

            I rest my head on her shoulder as she pulls me against her.

 

* * *

 

Author's Note: Thanks for reading. Let me know what you think. Please comment :D. Take care!


	6. Chapter 6

Author's Note: And now we're getting closer to why I wrote this story. Angel-brother interaction ahead. Gabriel and Lucifer's relationship has intrigued me since Lucifer's tears over having to "kill" Gabriel in Season 5. Welcome to Chapter 6!

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Chapter 6

Castiel

 

            “He can’t be dead.” Jack paces, repeating the phrase over and over.

            Mary and Jack’s rebel camp is small, set up in a marshy land surrounded by wooden shacks. Our team is scattered, Dean off talking with Mary, Maggie and Floyd joining the other refugees. Gabriel sits not a foot away from me and Jack, on a log, tearing strips off a thin branch and tossing them into a small pond.

            “Jack,” I reach out to touch the boy’s shoulder, “I…”  
            “Couldn’t you bring him back?” Jack turns on Gabriel who doesn’t even look up. “Why didn’t you bring him back?”

            Gabriel’s solemn eyes meet Jack’s. “I’m not strong enough.”

            “Jack,” I say. “If we could have, we would have. There were…”

            Wind chimes ring from all over the camp, signaling an approach. Everyone looks up, around… to see Sam Winchester pass through the open doors of our shabby shack-like fortress. Joy fills me as I drink in the sight of him. He’s dirty, with a thick patch of blood on his neck from when he’d been… I blink, but he’s all right, he’s alive. There’s no wound.

            “Sam?” I hear Dean’s voice behind me.

            “He’s alive!” Jack says a large smile spreading across his face.

            But how? I look back at Gabriel who’s getting to his feet, gazing moving beyond Sam to…

            Lucifer.

            He enters our sanctuary just behind Sam, smiling as he zeroes in on Jack.

            “Hello, son.”

            Silence.

            Sam looks helpless as he walks further into camp, into Mary’s arms. She hugs him as Dean looks at his brother. “Sam? What happened?”

            Sam pulls out of Mary’s embrace, turning around to face Lucifer and to look at the rest of us. “He…um…he brought me back.”

            “It’s what I do,” Lucifer says, looking smug. He grins with his hands tucked in his jacket pockets.

            Fury turns my vision slightly red at his lies. “It’s not what you—” I stop, regroup. Lucifer likes when we lose our tempers. “How did you get in here?”

            Lucifer’s smile widens as he spreads his arms. “VIP pass. I’m with the band. Come on, shouldn’t you be thanking me? I gave Sammy here an extra life! And… besides…” the devil’s eyes rake over Gabriel, “with my little bro here being a hot mess, I figured you’d need me. So, I’m here to join the team”

            A strange look passes between he archangels, Lucifer’s curious, Gabriel’s troubled, insecure. Thunder rumbles over our heads and Lucifer seems to shake himself, then concentrates on Jack. “Your name is Jack.”

            “And your name is Lucifer.”

            Jack sounds neutral. Dean growls and barrels toward Lucifer. “No! No, you do not talk to him! And you, don’t listen to him!” He places himself between Jack and Lucifer, a very dangerous position.

            “Um, don’t you think that’s his choice?” Lucifer asks, pointing to Jack.

            “No,” I answer, wanting to get Jack as far away from this monster angel as I can.

            “Are you trying to keep me from my son?” Lucifer gives a breathy laugh, his tone amused.

            “This is Kelly Kline’s son,” I say. “He’s nothing like you.”

            “Don’t say he’s nothing like me.” Lucifer narrows his eyes, thinning his lips. I’m glad the amusement’s gone, but it also means he might be about to make a move on us. We’re all way too close, but what can we do now?

            “I’m the only one who understands him,” Lucifer continues. “This power he has? I’m powerful, dangerous, ruthless.” He stops himself as he studies Jack again. “In the best sense though.” He softens his tone.

            “No,” Dean growls. “Kill him.”

            Kill... I blink and look to Dean to find his gaze on Gabriel. Gabriel’s eyes widen as he looks at Dean in shock, then at Lucifer who’s chuckling.

            “He can’t,” Lucifer sings. “He’s not strong enough. And…” he winks, “he wouldn’t do it if he could. Am I right, baby brother?”

            Gabriel’s lets out a shuddering breath and flashes Dean a hurt look. “Dean…”

            “Dean,” Sam’s voice comes out over Gabriel’s. “No.”

            “You’ve got the blade!” Dean snarls in Gabriel’s face.

            “Stop it,” Jack utters.

            “He’s the devil! Kill him!”

            “Dean!” Sam shouts again.

            “Stop it!” Jack shouts.

            The sound of massive wings flapping has us all blinking to the spot Jack once stood in. He’s gone.

            “Well, great. Does that when he’s scared,” Dean says, gesturing to where Jack was. “Way to go, ‘Dad’!”

            Lucifer shrugs.

            “I’ll…” Gabriel’s voice is small. “I’ll go look for him.”

            He walks away before I can reach for him. Someone Jack knows should go after him, but I also know that Gabriel just wants to get away. He’s not a flight risk. There’s nowhere to go, but I wonder what he’ll do if he actually does find Jack.

            “Look. I don’t understand all of the hostility. You need me. I am a walking weapon. I know this Michael. Heck, I beat him. So how about a little R-E-S-P-E-C-T?” Lucifer gives another smile, I can’t stand it, but it’s obvious he isn’t going away.

            If he’s truly here for Jack, which I’m sure he is, but not for the reasons he wants us to believe, then he won’t mind this. I move to Dean, unzipping his pack and pulling out the angel cuffs on top. I dangle them from one hand and give them a shake.

            “In case your innate evil overwhelms your newfound team spirit, you won’t mind wearing these, will you?” I ask, approaching Lucifer with the cuffs. “You’re not at full power. So, these should hold you,”

            “Slap ‘em on,” he says after a beat.

            I steady my hands as I snap the cuffs over his wrists.

            “So, if you’re here,” Sam’s voice is rough, “is the rift closed?”

            “Nah,” Lucifer says, examining the cuffs. “It’s open. I left Rowena’s some grace. So, you have…I’m thinking… thirty-one hours, give or take?”

            Dean automatically looks at his watch and stalks off, Sam following, leaving me with Mary and Lucifer.

            “So… who’s gonna give me the grand tour!”

            “Castiel, can you…?”

            “Deal with him?” I finish. Mary looks worn and weary. If I can do one thing to make her day easier, it can be this.

            “Of course.”

            She smiles at me, glares at Lucifer and goes toward on of the smaller shacks, probably to tell people about our new prisoner.

            “Where to first?” Lucifer asks, ignoring my glare. “Maybe to wash up? Road grime, yuck. And you know, magic cuffs keep me from doing my…” He mimes snapping his fingers.  
            I sigh. Why me?

 

~*~

 

            Leaving Jack where he can easily go off and find Lucifer is a bad idea, I know it, everyone knows it, but Jack wants time with him. I don’t want Jack viewing me as an enemy, or someone he can’t talk to because I don’t listen to his wants. We’re in a small camp, Lucifer’s not allowed to leave the grounds without me, Dean or Sam escorting him, so it should be safe tonight. There are those of us who don’t sleep, but Lucifer also being one of those people doesn’t comfort me.

            I enter the small shack near the very back of camp that Mary gave to me, Sam, Dean and Gabriel, carrying an extra blanket. The only person inside is Gabriel, sitting up on one of the rickety cots masquerading as beds, whittling a piece of wood with his archangel blade.

            “I don’t think that’s what you’re supposed to use that for,” I say softly.

            “I never do anything I’m supposed to, Castiel. That’s why I’m the fun one,” Gabriel says. He holds his project out on his palm—it’s a rose with folded petals.

            “Did you use your powers?” I ask, coming closer.

            Gabriel looks insulted. “No, I did not. I happen to be artistic. _It_ is a gift, the artsy thing I mean. I can draw too, and paint, and sculpt. Raphael was always better at drawing and painting, though—even got an artist named after him—but,” he grins deviously, “I’m the sculptor. Florence was fun in 1400s—and in the 1960s. Lots of models, not so much modesty.”

            “Really?” I want to roll my eyes, but I’m also curious.

            “Dad liked my stuff, but preferred Raphael’s. He was the genius,” Gabriel says. “Michael and Lucifer didn’t care for any art. Michael tolerated human influences, but he didn’t want them in his face all the time. So, Raphael’s work stayed in his rooms, and I kept most of my work downstairs because I wanted it displayed.”

            “By downstairs, you mean…”            

            “Earth,” Gabriel says. “The realm of the flesh where all the good stuff happens. Mardi Grau, Feast of Lanterns, Bach festivals, raves, Lady Gaga concerts.” He goes back to working on his rose. “So, where’s you know who tonight? He’s not coming in here, is he?”

            “No,” I say slowly. I set the blanket on the foot of Gabriel’s cot. “I thought you might need this.”

            Gabriel glances at the extra blanket, then at me with a slight frown. “It’s not that bad, Castiel.”

            “You used a lot of power in the tunnel.”

            “Not that it did Sam any good,” Gabriel says flatly.

            “Everything happened too fast. No one could have helped Sam,” I say. “You did what you could. If there hadn’t been so many of them, you’d have saved him.”

            Gabriel shrugs, not seeming satisfied with my rationalization. “We all feel guilty. You’re not alone in that,” I tell him. “But Sam’s back. And even though we have Lucifer to thank for it, we’re glad he’s here.”

            “Are we going to let Lucifer cross the rift with us when we go back?”

            “I…” want to say ‘no’. “I don’t know the plan on that.”

            “If we leave him here, the other Michael will get him, and use his grace to get over to our side,” Gabriel says.

            “Are you saying we should take him back to our world and let him free?”

            “Not let him free,” Gabriel says. “But you don’t have a plan on what to do with him, do you? Do you buy into the stuff he was saying about wanting to be a father to Jack?”

            “Not at all,” I say, but pause, studying the whittling archangel. “Do you?”

            Gabriel puts his blade away, admiring his rose. “Maybe. Maybe not. My brother’s a great actor, better than me. If you ask, he’ll tell you he taught me everything I know, so he’ll always be better, at everything.” Gabriel slides his figurine into his pack and reaches for the extra blanket. “I’ll use it. Thanks.”

            I nod, but stay where I am, hovering near his cot. “Gabriel?”

            “Yeah?” He doesn’t look up at me as he shakes out the blanket.

            “What do you plan to do after all this?”

            “After all what?” He lays down on his side, pulling the blanket up to his waist.

            “This, the rift, the fighting,” I say. “Do _you_ have plans?”

            “You think I had time to make plans before I got sucked back into this crap?” Gabriel says. “I don’t know what I’m gonna do. Haven’t thought about it. I… I mean, it’s not like I can… I’m not Loki anymore, so being a trickster and playing cosmic pranks isn’t in the cards.” He looks lost and I pounce.

            “You know, Heaven’s not in very good shape right now.”

            He raises a brow.

            “It’s fading, Gabriel. They’re barely able to keep the lights on, due to a lack of angel power. There aren’t many of us left,” I say.

            Gabriel frowns, concern flickering in his eyes. “Heaven’s dying?”

            “Yes,” I confirm. “And last I spoke with the remaining angels, they said they could really use an archangel up there helping out. You, in particular. I-I told them you’re still around. They were thrilled.”

            Gabriel snorts. “Thrilled? Over me? Oh please, I’m such an epic screw up. They don’t want me.”

            “They do,” I say, then sigh. “Heaven’s been ruined by upstanding, perfect angels. Maybe it’s time for a screw up. You certainly couldn’t do any worse.”

            Gabriel shuts his eyes, mouth quirking into an amused smile. “You have such a way with words, Castiel. Don’t ever let anyone tell you that you aren’t inspiring.”

            “Uh…”

            “Yes, that was sarcasm,” Gabriel murmurs, sounding tired. “But hm, you think Heaven wants me.”

            “And needs you.”

            “Poor Heaven,” Gabriel says, turning onto his other side, away from me. “But I’ll think about it, okay?”

            I smile. “Thank you.”

            I sit on the floor by his cot, listening to him breathe, deep and even, asleep. Sam and Dean are helping with the night watch. I’m to switch with them in four hours. It would make more sense to let me keep full watch and for them to sleep, but they have things to talk through tonight. If they could stay awake all night and still function in the morning, they would.

            I think about Jack and how he chose to remain in the cabin he’d been staying in with a few other refugees, instead of wanting to bunk with us. It hurts a little that he hasn’t missed us so much he’d want to keep near us. It hurts and worries me, because every moment he’s not with one of us, I think he’s visiting Lucifer in the lock-up cabin. 

            I lean my head back on Gabriel’s cot, running through possible scenarios on what to do with Lucifer and how Jack would take it if he ends up falling for Lucifer’s likeable act. I think about all the people Mary, Sam and Dean are plotting to bring through the rift with us and where we’ll put them if they come. If they choose not to come, Mary will stay, and Sam and Dead… Who knows what they’ll choose to do. If they stay, then so will I, but then what will happen to Heaven in our world.

            It’s right of me to worry about other angels. We haven’t always been on the same page, many of them dislike me, but we should behave more like family to each other. We can start that now, when—if—I go back. I can show them, Gabriel can show them. If he comes with me. He didn’t sound too enthused, but he hasn’t been to Heaven in a very long time.

            Hours pass as I drift in and out of focus, only snapping back to attention at the sounds of heavy breathing and whimpering. I sit up straight, turning to look at shivering mass on the cot behind me. Gabriel. Is he having nightmares? Like a human? He’s sleeping like one, so maybe.

            “Gabriel?” I call to him. It doesn’t stop the crying or trembling. All right. I touch his shoulder and give it a little shake, jumping back as he screams and bolts upright, back to the wall, staring at me like I’m a demon come to suck out his soul. His eyes blaze with angel fire and I hold very still, not wanting to be obliterated by a terrified archangel in defense mode.

            “It’s me, it’s Castiel,” I say softly. I don’t think he’s in the room with me. He stares past me, breathing hitching, body shaking so badly the cot beneath him rattles. “Gabriel, it’s all right. You’re all right.”

            The fire turning his eyes blue extinguishes and I rush toward him as he falls forward. I catch him, and carefully lay him on the cot. His face is slick with sweat and his clothing is damp, as are the blankets. If he was a human, I’d try my healing power on him, but I can’t heal an archangel.

            “Gabriel?” I pat his cheek. “Gabriel?”

            His eyes flutter open, blank and vague for a moment before they focus on me.

            “Are you with me?” I ask him.

            Long lashes lower, eyes closing.

            “Gab—”

            “Water, please,” he croaks.

            “Y-yes.” I look to his pack, where I know he has canned drinks. I don’t know if any of them are water though. I pull out a green and black can, frowning at the label: Monster. “There’s no water. There’s only… this monster drink.”

            “Oh yeah, bring me that,” he sighs.

             I come back to the bed with the can, and help him sit up, hating to see him struggle so much. He scrubs both hands over his face, then runs them through his sweaty hair as I open the beverage for him. The liquid inside fizzes like soda. “Should you really be drinking this?” It smells strange.

            “Everyone should drink it,” Gabriel murmurs, taking the can and a sip. His hands shake as he grips the drink between them. He sips again, trying to school his breathing, it’s still heavy.

            “Are you all right?” I ask.

            “Peachy.”

            “Did you—were you having a nightmare?”

            Gabriel drinks and rocks slowly. “Nightmare, flashback, same difference. Just—just need to remember that he’s dead. I smoked that son of a bitch. Dead.”

            “Asmodeus?”

            Gabriel cringes.

            “Sorry. You were remembering your time with him.”

            “Geez, Castiel, don’t make it sound like such a honeymoon.” He finishes the drink and flattens the can between the heels of his palms. “I might need a few more of those. I’m feeling a little light-headed.”

            The fire he’d been about to smite me with must have burned through his reserves even though he hadn’t unleashed it. I bring his bag over and pull out another drink. He gets halfway through the can before he shoves it toward me and scrambles off the cot, stumbling to the door. I follow, half-consumed drink in hand, to find Gabriel on his hands and knees in the grass outside, vomiting like an ill human.

            I set the can down on the wooden porch then make my way to Gabriel, kneeling beside him and placing a hand on his back. He retches hard, greenish yellow liquid pouring onto the grass. I catch him again, before he can fall forward, holding him upright as he laughs, the sound slightly hysterical.

            “Lu-Lu… he was right. I _am_ a hot mess. He always could read me.”

            The trembling starts anew, and I don’t know if it’s leftover from the nightmare, if he’s cold, or if he’s just ill. “It would be best, if I took you back inside.”

            Gabriel hiccups, then tries to straighten himself. “Y-yeah. I-I’m cold. Cold, like a human, for weeks.” He struggles to get to his feet, and doesn’t fight my help as we head back to the shack. I sit him down on the cot meant for me. I don’t know if someone who doesn’t know me came and set this shack up for all of us, or if the cot was just already in here. Either way, I’m grateful for it now that Gabriel’s sleeping arrangements are soaked through. I don’t want to waste my energy fixing bedding, but I expend a little to dry Gabriel’s clothes, body and hair.

            “Do you want to lay down, or do you want…” More food? When humans throw up, they don’t typically want to eat again right away. At least Sam and Dean don’t.

            Gabriel flops down on the cot, turning onto his side, shivering. I fold the blanket at the foot of the cot over him and take another off of Dean’s bed. I’ll tell him that I’ll bring him another when he comes in. I don’t want to leave Gabriel right now to search for more blankets.

            “Are you all right” I ask. “Does your…stomach hurt?” I never thought I’d ask that of an angel. 

            “From too much junk food?” Gabriel asks, laugh in his voice. “No, not from the food. The flashback…” He turns onto his back, balling his fists into his eyes. “I keep seeing that asshole. But he’s dead. He’s dead. I got rid of him.” He laughs. “He wasn’t expecting it either. The look on his dumbass face, in that stupid suit. He was so proud of that tacky suit.”

            “Dean called Asmodeus Colonel Sanders.”

            Gabriel lets out a sharp bark of laughter. “Oh, that’s good! Disappointed I didn’t come up with that one. Even talked like him. And then I Kentucky Fried him. Oh, that needs to be a meme.”

            “A meme?”

            Gabriel removes his hands from his eyes and studies me for a moment. “Castiel, you’ve walked among humans for years now. One would think you’d be more with it. You still stick out like a sore thumb when you’re in a group of them. Why are you struggling so hard to assimilate?”

            “Struggling? I’m not struggling. My best friends are human,” I say, then realize I sound defensive. But what Gabriel says isn’t true. I… “I do as well as the other angels.”

            “No, you don’t,” Gabriel says. “You told me about Anael being Sister Jo, making money as a faith healer while putting humans at ease with her bedside manner. There were other angels out there too, working jobs, blending in. You don’t blend.”

            “Sam and Dean don’t complain.”

            “Ah,” Gabriel says with a nod. “So, there it is. Because the only humans you really hang around with are Sam and Dean, and since they know what you are, you don’t have to adapt much. They cover for you in public.”

            “They don’t have to cover for me!”

            “Tell me other humans you guys run into, that aren’t hunters or somebody that knows you’re an angel, don’t think you’re weird.”

            “A lady hit on me over Dean,” I say. “And…and I did have a job at one point, and I was going to go on a date, and…and… I babysat her child, and…”

            Gabriel’s laughter is genuine and good-natured. “Calm down, Castiel. I’m just curious. If being awkward works for you, then it works.”

            “Awkward?”

            “Oh please, don’t act like you don’t know it. You’re like the angel Celine Dione. Eh, what’s with this strange English term I don’t know? Though, she really should know it. It’s her gimmick, but it’s cute. You’re not cute, though.” Gabriel waves a hand. “You’re just weird, but weird is in now.”

            “Are you feeling better?” I want to change the subject. I don’t know how I feel about being called weird and awkward by a fellow angel.

            “No.” Gabriel grins. “I’m really lightheaded. I needed the boost from that energy drink, but I’ll throw up again if I drink more. Think I need to sleep, but I really don’t want to. So, what next?”

            “If you sleep and have another… flashback, I’ll wake you up.”

            “I don’t want to see those things again, Castiel.”

            “At the first sign of any distress, I’ll wake you up,” I say. “Have you—have you had nightmares before?”

            Gabriel looks at me through eyes that appear bruised, the circles beneath them almost purple. “I don’t sleep very well. I thought you knew that. Sam knows it.”

            “Sam is observant,” I say, but I should be too. “How do you usually go back to sleep?”

            “I usually don’t,” Gabriel says. “But I guess I have to try or I’ll be more useless than I have been. Ugh, humans count sheep and drink warm milk. I don’t want to do any of that. Uh…”

            “I could, uh, sing. Jimmy Novak did that for his daughter when she couldn’t sleep.”

            Gabriel squints at me. “No. I don’t think I want you to sing me to sleep. Sorry.”

            “Well…” I’m at a loss. What else had Jimmy and his wife done for Claire?

            They had… “I can tell you a story.”

            Gabriel hums. “A story?”

            “Yes,” I say, now feeling as awkward as Gabriel accused me of being. “I can tell you about…” What kind of story would Gabriel like to hear? Something boring or interesting. “I could tell you about the time I made a stripper cry.”

            Gabriel chuckles. “I’m trying to go to sleep here. That would definitely keep me up. Why were you hanging out with strippers?”

            “Dean thought it’d be fun to take me to a strip club, and there were rooms in back.”

            “Dean thought it’d be fun to take an angel of the Lord to a strip club?” Gabriel laughs.

            “What happened?”

            I know he needs to sleep, but the excited intrigue on his face as he waits for me to tell my story makes me tell it anyway. I want him to smile and be happy, and as I tell the story and his eyes light up, I know that he hasn’t been happy since he’s been with us. This is what he looks like when he’s having a good time or pleased. I’ve seen brief flashes of it when Dean opens grocery bags with sweets inside.

            His joy is refreshing, and I remember what he said, that God had created him not to be a warrior, but to be this: bright, joyful, someone who makes others laugh. Of course he’d trade places with a trickster god. I talk for another hour before Gabriel quiets and I look over to find him asleep, one arm folded under his head. I pull the blankets up to his chin and stand up from where I’d been sitting by the cot.

            I hear Sam and Dean’s trudging footsteps outside, and head out to meet them with a finger to my lips. “Gabriel just fell asleep. Be quiet when you enter.”

            “Be quiet?” Dean asks.

            “He’s having a rough night, and his energy is very low,” I say.

            “Did you feed him?” Dean asks. “Pop a Twinkie in his mouth or something. Seems to make him feel better.”

            “He tried to refuel in that manner. He was ill,” I say. “He had a nightmare about his captivity, and didn’t think he could eat or drink more.”

            Sam flinches. “I hoped he was getting over those.”

            “He told you he had nightmares?” Dean asked.

            Sam shook his head. “I just figured. He always looks beat, even though we know he sleeps, or rather he needs to sleep. So, if something’s keeping him from it, then it has to be bad dreams. Some days he seems worse than others. Before we crossed the rift, he looked awful.”

            Dean makes a face at Sam. “You’re such a good mom, Samantha.”

            “Hey, you’re the one who buys him junk food,” Sam says. “Don’t think nobody noticed.”

            Dean shrugs. “Dude had a rough patch. If a few Zingers help, what the hell? And don’t think I didn’t notice him drinking that Monster crap and suddenly having holy fire in that tunnel. That stuff’s more than just comfort food for him, isn’t it?”

            Sam nods. “He told me it gives him temporary bursts of energy—though I do wonder if the energy would be more long term if the food wasn’t junk. Anyway, he claims the power’s nothing epic, but he was hoping it’d be enough to help out.”

            “It didn’t help much in that—”

            “Dean,” I say, warning in my voice, just in case Gabriel isn’t as asleep as I think he is.

            “Sorry,” he grouses. “It’s just—Jack—and Lucifer, being here. And Mom, not wanting to go back unless we take all these people with us. And then, they have to agree to it, and even then, we have to figure out a way to get them all through…in less than thirty-one hours.”

            “You sound like you need sleep too,” I say. “Uh—I took your blanket.”

            “Huh?” Dean stops in his tracks.

            “You’ll need to get another one,” I say. “Sorry?”

            “That’s just—why didn’t you take Sam’s? And what the hell’d you take it for anyway?”

            “Yours was closer,” I say. “Gabriel sweated through his blankets. I put him on my cot, but…”

            “That angel better be _full_ of holy fire tomorrow,” Dean grumbles, marching into the shack.

            Sam smirks, but doesn’t follow Dean right away. He stays with me outside. “Did you and Gabriel talk about the nightmares?”

            I nod. “Just a little. It’s bad, Sam. You’re right that he has them a lot. I’m sorry that you’re the only one who noticed he hasn’t been resting well. It definitely slows down his grace production and is a problem I don’t know how to fix. I only got him to try to sleep because I told him I’d be there to wake him up before the dreams get bad again.”

            Sam sighs. “Dean and I sleep light. We’ll wake him up too.”

            Good. “Well, I guess it’s my turn to take watch. Should I check on Lucifer?”

            “He’s still locked in the shack with guards. Dean and I only walked past every now and again. Mostly we talked to Mom and some of the camp leaders. Some of them are still up. They’re hardcore.”

            Hm. Well, as Gabriel so kindly put it, I’m awkward. So, I don’t see myself wanting to talk to camp leaders, and I don’t want to bother Mary when she should be trying to sleep.

            “Are you going to talk to Lucifer about Jack?” Sam asks.

            “Did you?”

            “Dean did. They argued. Lucifer got petty and smug, his usual self. Dean got pissed. So, maybe…”

            “Don’t?”

            “Yeah, not about that anyway,” Sam says. He looks thoughtful. “When Dean stomped off, Lucifer asked about Gabriel.”

            “What’d he ask?”

            “Just asked how he ended up here with us. He was trying to figure out where he’s been, I think,” Sam says. “He was really casual about it, but I notice he didn’t toss in any insults.”

            Hm. Interesting. “What do you think it was about?”

            “Honestly?” Sam shrugs. “I don’t know. He didn’t push for any more answers, went back to singing ‘Doo Dah’ a few minutes later. Ugh, I can’t wait until…” His groans. “We can’t even stick with our plan to kill him off, can we? How are we gonna get rid of him?”

            We stare at each other for a moment, before Sam yawns and tells me he’s off to bed. I bid him goodnight, before heading to Lucifer’s prison shack. Within ten feet of it, I hear his caterwauling and see refugees with shotguns strapped to their backs tossing cans at the door and hollering “Shut up!”

            I approach. “I’m—”

            “Coming to trade out?” a man says, sounding eager. “Great!”

            The two men run off, leaving me outside of Lucifer’s shack. The singing stops and chuckling begins. “Everyone’s a critic, eh?” Lucifer purrs.

            The shack has a barred window so that I can peer in at Lucifer. He sits on a cot with his feet up, facing me and smiling broadly. “Castiel! I was hoping to get some more of my own kind of company soon! My brother with you?”

            Does he sound hopeful? “No.”

            “Oh,” Lucifer says. “Well, that’s disappointing. At least Gabe enjoys a good joke, can make them too. At least he could, now he’s trying to be all serious.”

            I say nothing.

            “You boys run into some trouble tonight?”

            “What do you mean?”

            Lucifer grins. “Don’t play coy, Cass. I felt some archangel fire. What’s my baby bro leveling up for? From what I sensed off him, he doesn’t have that kind of power to waste right now.”

            I stare. “No reason, no trouble.”

            Lucifer narrows his eyes. “What happened to him?”

            “To who?”

            A flash of annoyances crosses his face, before he laughs. “The Winchesters wouldn’t say much either, but I figured I could talk to you, a fellow angel.”  
           

            “I’m not your fellow.”

            “Ah come on, what’s going on with my brother? He was gone for years, then suddenly turns up wearing _that_ face, and he’s a wreck and hanging out with you lot. None of it adds up for me.”

            “And why should I care what adds up for you?”

            Lucifer sighs. “I don’t know. Guess you shouldn’t. Whatever. Just making conversation is all. It’s been a long, boring night. No one wants to talk. No one will let my son come around much. My own brother doesn’t come visit at all. Why is he not on guard duty with you or here instead of the brothers Grim?”

            “Why do you care?”

            Lucifer doesn’t answer and I go closer to the window. He inspects the blanket at the foot of the cot, then folds his arms behind his head and lays back. “I don’t.”  
           

            “Then why ask?”

            “I’m bored!”

            I sit down, pressing by back against the shack wall, head against the ledge of the window sill. I look out at the camp, noting that most of the shacks are dark. A few lights are still on in the shacks surrounding us. Probably more night watch. To be so shabby and rundown, this resistance is strong, dedicated and organized.

            “You know he can’t kill me, right?”

            Lucifer’s voice comes out of the blue.

            “Who?”

            “Gabriel,” Lucifer says. “And it’s not just that he’s weak, he can’t do it. I should have known I didn’t kill the real him all those years ago, because the real him wouldn’t have had the balls to attempt what he did. Man, baby brother got the one up on me! Guess there’s a first time for everything, huh?” He sounds amused.

            But why does he keep talking about Gabriel? Shouldn’t he be asking more about Jack?

            “But seems like he ran into something bad while hiding out from all of us,” Lucifer says. “Serves the little chicken shit right. Never really could take care of himself. But that’s Dad’s fault.”

            “What’s Dad’s… God’s fault?”

            “He made me all buff and strong, you know, the right way. Michael too, I guess. But Gabriel and Raphael, He was just doing stuff, and then He let Gabriel run wild. Never really got on him about being loyal and dedicated to a cause. He never learned responsibility, so he always thought it was okay to run. Did it all the time when something he didn’t like happened. Stupid things too. Ran away for years because nobody liked his damn horn playing. And instead of coming down on Him, Dad made that horn all important to lure Gabriel back. And when he did come back, do you know he didn’t even play the damn thing anymore. Lost interest. He was a spoiled brat.”

            Lucifer’s words sound flippant, but the fact that he’s saying so much on this particular subject has me very curious. He could be playing a game, but I want to try something, just to see what he’ll say. “One of your princes of Hell happened to Gabriel, Lucifer. He was betrayed and sold to Asmodeus who held him captive for years.”

            “Asmodeus held onto an archangel?” Lucifer sounds dubious.

            “He had help. I think what was used on you to get you to the bunker—”

            “Yeah, yeah,” Lucifer sounds irritated. “So, Gabe let his guard down and someone got the slip on him and he ended up with Ass-modeus. The weakest Hell prince, that ain’t so weak anymore. I…” he trails off. “Don’t tell me.” Lucifer crows with humorless laughter. “Oh, that son of a bitch was leeching archangel grace. That’s how he got so strong. How long?”

            “Since maybe a few months after you thought you’d killed Gabriel.”

            “That long.” Lucifer is quiet for a moment. “Did he tell you anything about what happened in there? Aside from being a grace cow and all?”

            “Asmodeus tortured him,” I say. “When we recovered him, he was in very bad condition.”

            “A demon, a lowly, disgusting demon, dares to capture and torment an archangel,” Lucifer mutters. “These demons are really getting too big for their britches: Crowley, Ass-modeus. When we get back to our world, I’m gonna pay ol’ Assy a visit. Show him what I did to Crowley.”

            “Asmodeus is dead.”

            “Oh?”

            “Gabriel.”

             “Oh.” Lucifer sounds pleased. “Well, good for him.”

            “Why do you really want to know about Gabriel, Lucifer?”

            “You really are a broken record. Okay, I’ll play the same song too. I’m bored.”

            “There are other things you could be asking about.”

            “Well, I know you won’t tell me about my son. It was a chance to see if you’d talk about my brother. I was kinda hoping he’d come himself, but, after what you told me, I’ll bet he’s sleeping. It’s rough having your grace practically gone. It’s like being human. You get hungry, and you’re cold, and tired. It sucks. Didja tell him how I fixed my problem?”

            “By killing other angels?”

            “Why do you always gotta go for the negative like that, Castiel?” Lucifer whines. “Those other angels were peons. They should be honored to have fed me. And they should be honored if Gabriel decided to, you know, have a snack too. I mean, we’re archangels. Hands of God. Heck, I was just _running_ Heaven. Listening to prayers, _being_ Dad.”

            “ _You_ listened to prayers?” 

            “Meh, until it got annoying,” Lucifer says. “Humans are such sniveling creatures.”

            “You would think that.”

            Lucifer whistles. “Hey, Castiel.”

            I’m quiet, maybe he’ll take a hint.

            “Does uh… does Gabriel talk about me?”

            What is this? “Does he—yes. Yes, he does. He talks about you, God and the other archangels.”

            Lucifer hums and doesn’t say another word until the sun rises and someone else comes to take my place. I wonder about his last question and why my answer seemed to appease him.

            Should I tell Gabriel about my encounter with Lucifer? I’m not sure if it’d do Gabriel any good to know how curious Lucifer was about him, or that I’d told Lucifer about Asmodeus. Maybe he didn’t want Lucifer to know. I don’t know. Gabriel’s feelings about Lucifer, and the fact that Lucifer knows that Gabriel won’t kill him is something that they could talk about. Or maybe they shouldn’t. Maybe Gabriel should stay away from Lucifer, especially in his current state.

            Whatever game Lucifer’s playing now can’t be a good thing. Nothing that has do with Lucifer is ever good. I walk back to the shack I share with Sam, Dean and Gabriel, entering to find my friends and the archangel fast asleep. I place myself beside Gabriel’s cot, sitting down beside it as I had earlier and not planning to move until he wakes up. I just wish I knew what I’m going to say to him when he does.

* * *

Author's Note: More angel-brother interaction to come :D. Thanks for reading. Let me know what you think. Please comment :D.

 


	7. Chapter 7

Author's Note: And, now we have Gabriel POV. Almost to the reason why I wrote this. :D. Welcome to Chapter 7

* * *

 

Chapter 7

Gabriel  


            I have massive respect for humans. The things they put up with on a daily basis astounds me. I sit on the thin cot pretending to be a bed, watching Sam and Dean stretch and fold blankets like it’s not freezing. I shiver under two blankets, not about to unwrap and expose myself to that. I’ll get up when it’s time to go…or at least that’s what I want to do, but this human body of mine is telling me other things.

            Its stomach growls, its bladder is heavy, the head aches, its muscles are tired. I’m not used to vessel complaints. My grace fuels them, making them impervious to human weakness and need. Any sweet-snacking I did was because I craved the taste of a cupcake. Having to eat makes it less enjoyable, and involuntarily losing consciousness for at least 5-6 hours a day—sleep—is insane. What a waste of time.

            Allysiah, Cyrus, Farhad, Laela, Minu, and, until now, Cye were perfect vessels, their line crafted for me by God. And I loved them. I showed them all Heaven, let them know what they had to look forward to, before I returned them to live the rest of their human lives. I tried to only visit them a few times during their lifespans, not wanting to burn them out completely. There is only so much my healing can do after an extended stay, so I had to space my adventures out. They didn’t mind, they loved me—but human life is so fragile. I wanted them to experience it all.

            I pull the blankets over my head.

            And they all did, even Cye, because I let him live with me. While he was alive, he enjoyed a young beautiful body for more than seventy years. He was conscious inside me and I let him talk, let him make requests. We went to places we both enjoyed. He had relationships. I took him to other worlds, let him meet other gods, showed him Heaven many times before I had to leave him there. He was my friend—and he’d encouraged me to run away for good after he passed on. It hadn’t taken much convincing. We were of the same mindset, me and him. Me taking him was a great honor to him, but it was also an escape. He’d felt trapped at home; with me, he could see the world, and then give me the gift of an eternal vessel.

            I miss him.

            And to hear about Heaven dying without enough angels to support it? That means his soul and the souls of his family might fall back to Earth, lost. But can I really do something about that? I’ll probably be the reason Heaven crashes and burns faster. It’s better off without me. If the angels there stay put, it should be fine. Which means, no more angel deaths—and the biggest killer of angels is right here in camp with us. Joy.

            We never should have left him alone with just Rowena as a guard, but who else was there? Me, hah. He’d have knocked me flat and come through, but maybe I could have distracted him enough for Rowena to do something more. We’ll never know if I could have been more help out there than I am in here.

            Chocolate bars and energy drinks can’t fix my level of messed up. My shallow pond of grace shimmers inside me, and for every inch it deepens, it depletes two more when I have to use my power—or when I have those stupid nightmares about…

            I shudder.

            Why can’t I get him out of my head? He’s dead. I smoked his ass to nothingness. He’s in the Empty. Gone forever. Hasta la vista Colonel Sanders wannabe. Dumbass cheap suit, hell, _suits_. He had a whole bunch of them, custom made. Busted my skull open when I got blood on one of them.

            He liked to bust my skull open a lot, because he knew it’d knit right back up after a few hours. Bone-crushing was a sport, as was blood-boiling, eye-ball bursting, poisoning, basting my skin in holy oil and setting patches of it on fire. And the needles—the way he’d pull grace straight from my jugular. The way he’d shoot me full of demon blood to replace it. The blinding agony that followed, that scorched through my body and made me sick, every day. The first few years, I’d lie in that dirty cage and scream. The last few…I’d just lie there, sometimes I’d sit, look, when visitors came. He didn’t let me see many people but him. A lot of times I was kept in the dark.

            It was so dark.

            So dark I forgot who I was.

            What I was.

            Forgot I was alive.

            I was just there.

            Then, the pain, and hunger, and thirst, and need to sleep hit. But there was no food or water, and if I slept, he—I cringe.

            He’s dead. I killed his ass. Smoked it to nothing. He’s in the Empty.

            But that doesn’t stop my hands from shaking.

            “Hey!” Dean’s voice is rough. “Get up!”

            I yelp as my blankets are tugged, my head exposed. I glare at Dean and he glares right back.

            “We’re gonna be leaving out soon,” Sam says from the other side of the room. “If there’s anything you need to do, you should do it now.”  
           

            What would I need to do?

            Oh. Wash, eat, change into something else, all manually, no power. Okay. I push off the bed, keeping the blankets around my shoulders.

            “You’re really that cold?” Dean asks.

            “Nah, these blankets are my capes. They give me super powers,” I mutter. “I’ll be ready to go in a little bit.” I mourn the loss of my blankets as I shed them back onto the cot and go for my backpack. There are shower stalls and communal toiletries in the next shack—the high life this is not. The mighty have fallen hard.

            I suffer through lukewarm water, bar soap, thin and grimy with foreign usage, and a two-in-one shampoo so old the brand name’s gone from the bottle, though I’m sure it’s some dollar store off-brand product anyway. I get dressed fast. Thick jeans, thick socks, boots, sweater and a coat don’t insulate me from the permanent cold. It’s not the weather, it’s me. Blowing in my hands, backpack over my shoulder, I head back to the Winchesters’ shack and find Sam waiting for me.

            “There you are,” Sam says. “There’s oatmeal for breakfast. We can go get you some, if…”

            I shake my head. Oatmeal. Yuck. Stuff looks like something someone else already ate. “I’ve got it covered.” In my bag are Honey Buns. Processed food is ambrosia. I offer one to Sam but he waves it off, too good for my fake food delights. That just means two for me. I devour the first Honey Bun in a few bites, and savor the second. My growling stomach eases and the pounding in my head calms a little.

            “How are you feeling?” Sam asks.

            I lick at Honey Bun glaze on my lips. “Like a million dingy, dirty bucks, dropped in a sewer and used to line rat nests.”

            Sam blinks at me for a second. “Uh… okay. You’re not feeling well. Is it—is it Lucifer or did you just use too much power yesterday?”

            “Does it have to be one or the other?” I ask, now licking the Honey Bun.

            “I just wanna know where your head is, man. We might need you to do some scouting, but if you’re not feeling up to it…”

            “Scouting, like moving ahead and not having to travel with Lucifer?” Huh. That doesn’t sound like the worst job they could give me.

            “But you’d be alone,” Sam says. “Can you—”

            Frustration and embarrassment warm my face. Hope I’m not red. “If you didn’t think I was capable of handling myself, you shouldn’t have brought me here.”  
           

            “I don’t think you’re incapable of handling yourself,” Sam says. “I just… if you’re sick, then you shouldn’t. We make everyone sit out when they’re sick.”

            “I’m not an ‘everyone’,” I say. “I’ll scout. Tell me more about the job.”

            “Mom will tell you, when we meet up. She’s gonna ring the bells in about 20 minutes for us all to gather up and move out. So, that gives us some time to talk, if you want.”

            “I don’t want,” I say, sucking my breakfast off my fingers and contemplating having another. My rations are limited though. Once I’m out of treats, I’ll have to stomach the rations the rest of humans eat, salty things like jerky and lots of high protein cardboard.

            “Castiel says you had a pretty bad nightmare last night and almost nuked him.”

            “I didn’t almost—” Well, maybe I did. Heck, I don’t know. All I ever remember is waking up and needing to tell myself that I wasn’t there anymore. No one’s ever been in the room with me before when that’s happened. “Yeah, okay, if that’s what he says, then I did.”

            “Bet that takes a lot of energy out of you,” Sam remarks. “If you wake up with less grace than you went to sleep with, it defeats the purpose of you sleeping.”

            “Yes, Captain Obvious,” I say and fish a Dr. Pepper out of my bag. These I can sip on for hours.

            Sam rolls his eyes. “Look, I’m just thinking that when we get back, we could ask Rowena if there’s something she can do, or make, that can help you rest without dreams. That way, you get better faster, and…”

            “I don’t nuke you?” I poke.

            “Yeah.”

            I snort. “That’s assuming Rowena will be there when we get back.”

            “You think she bailed?” Sam asks.

            “You know her better than me, but I’d bail if I was her. She did her part and now Lucifer’s free,” I say with a shrug. “You can’t blame her. She’s afraid of him and couldn’t care less about the people you came over here to help. She owed you one, and now she doesn’t.”

            Sam hangs his head. Guess he’d thought about that too, but it sucks having things like that thrown back into your face.

            “Sorry?” I offer.

            “It’s fine. If she’s not there, we’ll find her again and ask for you,” Sam says.

            “For me? ‘Cause after all this, if we all get back, I’ll have done what you needed me to. You won’t need me anymore, so…”

            “So?” Sam frowns. “You—do you think we’re going to put you out after you came here with us?”

            “It was a deal,” I say.

            “A deal that made you part of our team,” Sam says. “I told you we help our own. Buy them Snickers.”

            “Temporarily. Dean can’t stand me long-term, he can barely stand me now.”

            “Don’t make assumptions about Dean,” Sam says. “He’s… Dean. It’s hard to tell who he likes sometimes. But you’re fine. He doesn’t dislike you.”

            “Hm.”

            “We don’t really have to wait 20 minutes to join the others, Sammy,” I say. “I’m good to go.”

  
            Sam seems disappointed. Did he think we were going to have another heart-to-heart like we had in the bunker’s kitchen? I’m not too keen on that kind of stuff, and besides…

            “I told Dean,” Sam blurts.

            “Told him what?” I head for the door of the shack, ready to join the masses.

            “I told him about what I promised you. And I told him that if anyone’s going to ice Lucifer, it’s going to me, or Rowena.”

            I don’t turn to look at him, I stare straight ahead, at all the shacks out there, one of them maybe housing Lucifer. Laughter bubbles in my chest, and I chuckle until it aches, leaning in the doorframe. “Doesn’t matter if he asks me to or not, I can’t do it. Lucifer knows I can’t do it. He’s not afraid of me.”

            “He asked about you,” Sam says.

            “Who?”

            “Lucifer.”

            I choke on my giggles. “Luci asked about me? How sweet.” How horrifying. “What did he ask?”

            “He wanted to know what happened to you, where you’d been,” Sam says. “Dean and I didn’t tell him anything, but I think Cass might have.”

            Shit. “That’s just great.”

            “Just wanted to give you a heads up.”

            “Yeah, thanks.” And on that note, I will eat another Honey Bun. I don’t care if I run out, I deserve one. I shuffle out of the shack, unwrapping another sweet and hear Sam behind me.

            “Don’t be mad at Cass. He’s trying to help.”

            “I’m not mad at Castiel.” I say around bites.

            The group of about 25 refugees, plus Mary, Dean, Castiel, my nephew Jack, and Lucifer stand in a huddle, murmuring and talking amongst themselves. Clearly, it’s not meeting time yet. Lucifer winks at me over the crowd and I sneer. Asshat.

            I make my way to Mary, ignoring Castiel’s greeting. “Heard you had a scouting mission for me. I’m all ears.”

            Mary gives me a tentative smile, blue eyes giving me a once over. Her forehead wrinkles. “Uh, maybe…”

            “You have a better scout than an archangel?” I ask, before she can tell me she’s changed her mind and wants Castiel to run ahead.

            “No.” Her forehead smooths as she nods at me. “You’ll do. Dean, Castiel, Jack, come here. Let’s tell Gabriel what we know and what we need.”

 

* * *

 

~*~

           

            Of all the dumbass things I’ve agreed to do… The trees are blurs as I speed past them. There’s a group of bad guy angels heading in the direction of the marching refugees. I don’t know how they got wind of where we’re going, but they got it. I ran into a whole group of them coming this way. I’ll probably make it back to the people with only minutes of warning before they’re under attack—but minutes are better than nothing.

            I catch sight of Dean, Castiel and Mary and the group up ahead and shout, “Angels! Incoming!”

            The frontline stops, ready with shotguns and pistols as I join the line, whirling and whipping out my angel blade. The band of bad angels thunders onto the path, the leader of the group ordering the rest to, “Kill them!”

            Rifles cock. My muscles tremble. I can take out these angels, I can. They’re not related to me. It’s a different world. I can do this. I tighten my grip on my blade and then… the bad angels go up in several puffs of smoke—holy smoke. I swallow and turn, staring at Lucifer who has a hand up in the air, fingers in snapping position.

            He used his powers, which means the angels cuffs—the ones that had held me—are useless. He smiles innocently—bullshit—and the cuffs vanish from his wrists. “Er, so, uh, about those. Yeah. I knew they weren’t going to hold me. But I wanted to go with the flow, play nice, because it seemed to make you feel better. And, yeah, you’re welcome.”

            And there’s another thing that’s just great.

            Lucifer claps his hands, still smiling as people move away from him. “I told you. I come in peace. Team player!”

            Glares, sneers, whispers. But what can we do? He’s stronger than any of us right now, and so, we need his help. After a few more minutes of uncomfortable muttering, the group moves on, trudging to our next destination: a junkyard—who needs the Ritz?

            I find a nice place to be alone, no Sams or Castiels wanting to talk, no Deans glaring at me for not finding something useful to do. I can lose myself between the rusted cars and trucks and scrap parts laying around here. I approach the shell of an old Chevy pick-up, 1969. I’d driven one of these, back when they were new. Sixty-nine was a wild time. I smirk, thinking about—

             Footsteps and voices—annoying voices. Lucifer, and he’s getting closer. I roll my eyes. Time to find a new place to be.

            “Oh, there’s your Uncle Gabe! Gabe, hold up! I want to formally introduce you to your nephew!”

            I pretend to be deaf, until the kid talks.

            “Hello!” Jack calls to me, as if we hadn’t already had the pleasure.

            I stop walking, shoulders hunched. “Hello.”

            “Hey-hey.” Lucifer’s suddenly beside me, all smiles. “I was just catching Jack up on the family, telling him how you were the class-clown.”

            “Yeah, and you’re an ass-clown, things don’t change.”

            “Oh, uh… ha-ha.” Lucifer’s laughter is about as fake as the powdered donuts in the bottom of my bag—they’ll be crumbs by the end of this journey, just the way I like them. “See that, class clown. Funny. He’s always had the jokes, this one.”

            I can leave now. I start to walk away, but Lucifer’s hand is like an iron clamp on my shoulder. I stop again and he turns me to face him, his eyes boring into mine. I don’t like being this close to him, and I definitely don’t like him touching me. Before I can jerk away, he takes his hand off my shoulder and presses two fingers to my forehead. I leap back, snarling at him as he cocks his head at me.

            “Your time with Asmodeus didn’t do you any favors.”

            Freaking Castiel.

            “And my time with you was worse. As I recall, you…”

            “No, no, all happy times and happy endings there! We’re good!” He cuts me off, grinning at Jack who looks uncertain. Lucifer gives him a little shrug, then puts his attention back on me. “You’ve been tainted with demon venom. You’re burning it off, but not fast enough.”

            “I know that.”

            “I don’t have the juice to fix it as I am now,” Lucifer says. “And I would totally fix you, if I had the power. I’m low on grace too. Not as low as you, though, geez, baby brother. You and your messes. But hey, get me around some more bad boy angels, and maybe I can help you out.”

            “Don’t touch me,” I sneer.

            “Oh, come on, lighten up,” Lucifer says. “I’m trying to build something here, for the kid. We can put past disagreements behind us for him, can’t we? Look at his cute little face! So innocent. He’d love to have an uncle around, someone else to tell him about God. I mean, there are so many things that happened between us and Pop that maybe I can understand better now that I’m a dad. Pop was tough, right, G? We butted heads a lot, but in hindsight, I gotta cut him some slack, because being a dad is hard.”

            “Are you really making Dad the bad guy, and painting yourself as the victim?” I’m starting to wish that I hadn’t eaten all those Honey Buns. Lucifer’s making me sick, as per usual. I can walk away, leave. Lucifer might not grab me again. But I have to say this. “Dad was not the bad guy. That’s just you making excuses.”

            The friendly smile finally fades from Lucifer’s lips and I see an expression I recognize, brewing anger. It comforts me, knowing that I got under his skin, and made him drop his mask.

            “Excuses for what?” His voice is low.  

            “For everything you destroyed.”

            I walk away, tense, expecting him to grab me with his powers, hands, whatever he’s got, but nothing touches me but icy air as I make my way through the junkyard, in search of another unpopulated place.

            I really want to be alone.

* * *

 

Author's Note: Thank you for reading. Don't be afraid to let me know what you think. Please comment :D>

 

           

 

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

Author's Note: Time for a little angelic sibling rivalry. Remember how Season 5 Gabriel said Sunday dinner was Armageddon at his house, well, he didn't exaggerate. ;) Welcome to Chapter 8.

* * *

 

Chapter 8

Dean  
 

            Sam and Mom’s crazy plan didn’t go over well with the folks in Otherworld Bobby’s camp. I knew it wouldn’t, but damn it’s frustrating. We’re on a clock and we’re constantly sitting around wasting time. Mom’s people want to come, so we take them, but we have to get out of here. As much as I’d love for any version of Bobby to come through that portal with us, if it’s not gonna happen, I’m okay with it. Let’s go.

            “They need time to discuss it,” I mutter, leaving the room where Bobby’s people sit around a table arguing with each other. Mom, Sam, Castiel and Jack follow me. “We don’t have time for them to discuss it.”

            “Dean, we’re asking a lot,” Mom says.

            “I know that,” I say. “But it still doesn’t give us more time before that portal closes. Look, if they haven’t decided by—what is it?” I stop walking, staring at both Jack and Castiel who’ve gone stock-still. Mom and Sam stop too, looking concerned.

            “What’s wrong?” Mom asks. “Are you two…”

            “That energy.” Jack’s voice is dazed. “It feels… my skin’s tingling.”

            Castiel is pale as he looks straight ahead, then at me, Sam and Mom. “The last time I felt this type of disturbance was in Heaven, when all the archangels were home and…not getting along.”

            My eyes widen. “Not getting along?”

            “There was lightning. Lots and lots of lightning.”

            “You don’t think Lucifer and Gabriel…?” Mom starts, but Castiel takes off running.

            “Shit.” I chase after him, knowing Jack, Mom and Sam won’t be too far behind.

            I hear them, before I feel weird waves of tension in the air. I round the corner of a row of junker cars and nearly crash into Cass. He’s rooted in place, watching, seemingly mesmerized by what’s going on.

            Lucifer and Gabriel are less than a foot apart, snarling in each other’s faces.

            “You can’t change! You’re incapable of empathy and love. You live to be worshipped or feared, or both!” Gabriel yells.

            “I’m incapable of empathy and love? Really? You believe that? Look at me. No, look at me! Do you believe that?” Lucifer spits through his teeth, grabbing Gabriel’s head with both hands and holding him in place.

            I reach for my gun. Son of a bitch.

            Castiel pushes my gun arm down, shaking his head.

            Gabriel shoves Lucifer back, blue sparks flying from his hands. “I told you not to touch me!”

            Lucifer throws both hands in the air. “Fine, then. I won’t. Hands free. What are you so touch-shy for? Huh? Ass-modeus touch you? Bet he did, bet he did all kinds of disgusting, defiling things, and you let him because you’re weak. You always were weak. Heard you got caught by him, because you were ‘betrayed’. Betrayed by who, let me guess, one of your pagan pals? Dad went so wrong with you. If He’d kept you in line, you wouldn’t have ended up like this. You’d have stayed your little ass with the family, and…”

            “And what, taken sides? Maybe I’d have taken yours. Is that what you think?”

            “I would have protected you, if you’d come with me. You were no good in battle. Dad saw to that. But I wouldn’t have made you fight. Don’t forget, _He_ gave you a blade. I wouldn’t have. I would have let you—”

            “What? Chill in Hell, with your demons, while you tainted and tried to kill off humanity and fought our brothers to the death? Have them know that I chose you over them—which means I agreed with you trying to kill them?”

            Sam, Mom and Jack arrive, crowding my back, trying to peep out at what me and Cass are watching. “Shh…” I breathe at them.

            “I didn’t want to kill them. I just—it was coming to it, and I knew Michael would kill me if Dad told him to. Raphael would too.”

            “But I wouldn’t. Why do you think that was?”

            “Because you were so damn spoiled! You didn’t know anything about pain and doing things that caused it or death. You never got called on to help with the hard stuff. Where were you when we fought the Darkness and I took the Mark of Cain for Dad, to help him put down Aunty? Huh, where were you? Do you remember?”

            “I was in Heaven.”

            “Yeah, Daddy left you and Raphael at home, safe, with the keys to Heaven, with simple orders to lock it up and keep it under wraps if we didn’t come back.”

            “Lucifer, Heaven needs angels in it to run. All of you, the foot soldiers, you, Michael, God, were gone. If we had gone too, there’d have been no Heaven and what would God have had you all fighting for? Nothing! He’d have to start all over again. And then, _Aunty_ would have won.”

            “He should have sent you on the other missions we went on, made you come with me at least,” Lucifer growls. “I would have gotten you blooded. Those parlor tricks you let me teach you were nothing. But no, you didn’t want to learn to fight or help us. You wanted to do whatever your heart desired.” Lucifer pitches his voice high. “Dad, I want to frolic with the apes downstairs. Make me a monkey suit, will ya?” His register returns to normal, “And instead of saying, No, you should learn how to help your brothers do their work, He says: Sure! Go play. I’ll handle the details. All you guys should be like Gabriel. Go live among the humans, see why they’re such a great idea!”

            I tap Castiel’s shoulder, mouthing: What the fuck?

            Is this actually happening. Two archangels, blue and orange sparks, blue for Gabriel, orange for Lucifer, arching from t-shirts, jeans, hair and fingertips, are squabbling like…like siblings, a big and little brother.

            “You should have come down with us,” Gabriel says.

            “I didn’t like to play in gutters,” Lucifer sneers. “Michael didn’t either.”

            “Yeah, but Michael wasn’t literally hellbent on destroying Dad’s creations because they got more attention than him.”

            “If I was hellbent on destroying creations that got more attention, I would have gone after you!”

            Gabriel snorts, rolling his eyes. “Oh—you really want to go over who God’s favorite kid was? Everyone knows it was you! You were his pride! Michael—Michael was a great warrior, but stiff. You had the personality, but you were—”

            “I was what?”

            Gabriel growls, sounding frustrated. “You were never satisfied. Nothing was ever enough. You’re selfish and cruel and…” He stops, pointing his index finger at Lucifer like ‘aha, I’ve got it now.’  “…you’re cancer! You feed on good cells, infecting them until they’re ugly inside, like you, and then you spread, until you kill whatever it is you’ve touched. You ruined our family, because you couldn’t stand that Dad loved anyone or anything else more than He loved you.”

            “Weren’t you just criticizing me for blaming other people—”

            “If you had sucked it up, and tried what Dad asked, lived among your host bloodline, involved yourself in their lives, you would have seen how beautiful and innocent and pure humans were, how fragile and how precious. You’d know that we needed to protect them, not tempt and taint them. You would have seen Dad’s plan and none of this would be happening.”

            “There’s your soft brain talking,” Lucifer says.

            “No, there’s my inherent goodness talking. Where’s _yours_? Oh, you don’t have any. Dad messed up when he made you. He forgot to add a heart.”

            “Did Michael have a heart?”

            “Michael loved Dad, and, for him, he’d suffer anything.”

            “Michael was a robot,” Lucifer spits.

            “Michael loved you,” Gabriel says.

            “He was willing to kill me.”  
            “He didn’t want to,” Gabriel says, then shuts his eyes. “Neither of you wanted to kill each other, so why? Why couldn’t you just—”

            “Let Dad be right when He was wrong?”

            “But wrong for what?” Gabriel demands.

            “For giving humanity dominion of the Earth. For making them in His image. For belittling us.” Lucifer’s voice rings through the junkyard as it rises in fury. Gray clouds circle overhead, and I remember the lightning Cass mentioned. But, somehow, I don’t think us trying to break this up will help anything. Might even result in one of us getting lit up like a Christmas tree.

            “Temper, temper,” Gabriel says, voice cold as ice as he clicks his tongue against his teeth. “I thought you said you’d turned over a new leaf. Don’t you want to help these humans here? Impress your half-human son? Oh, wait. It’s all an act. Everything with you is an act. And that kid of yours sees right through it.”

            I hear Jack suck in a sharp breath.

            “He likes what he sees,” Lucifer says.

            “Kids like shiny new objects. You’re new,” Gabriel says. “But he’ll know who you are as well as I do after a few days. You haven’t changed one bit since Heaven, Lucifer.”

            “And you have.”

            Gabriel glares.

            “You’re not the little brother that ran away from us all,” Lucifer continues. “You’re a shattered wreck pretending to be him. And just so you know, I wouldn’t have let him shatter you. He wouldn’t have dared, if you’d been my right hand.”

            Gabriel makes a disgusted noise, backing away from Lucifer, inching toward us and about to catch us eavesdropping. I glance at Cass. We should probably go, but I want to hear the end of this. Castiel stays in place, not paying me any attention. Mom’s hand squeezes my shoulder, her eyes questioning. Bet she thinks we should go. I shrug at her as she gestures in the other direction with her head. She’s already turning Jack and Sam around when Lucifer’s voice comes again.

            “Before you run away, answer that questions I asked you earlier. Do you really think that I’m incapable of love and empathy?”

            “No one capable of either would be able to do the things you’ve done,” Gabriel says flatly.

            “You don’t think I loved God, or our brothers, or you.”

            Gabriel shrugs and Lucifer stares him down.

            “You’re lying.”

            Gabriel stays quiet.

            “I loved our brothers, I loved you—I even loved Dad, a long time ago.”

            Gabriel looks heavenward as Lucifer crosses the distance between them, reaching out to touch Gabriel again and Gabriel practically jumps out of his skin. “Don’t—”

            “Don’t touch you, got it.” Lucifer puts his hands in his pockets. “But answer my question, without weaseling around it. Do you really think I didn’t love you? I taught you things. I laughed with you. I offered you a place beside me. You can’t think that I never loved you. I loved you more than Michael, you disloyal, ungrateful leech. I loved you more than Raphael.”

            Silence between the angels looms.

            Gabriel fidgets. His back is to Cass and me, so I can’t see his face, but Lucifer asks, “What? What’s with that look?” His voice cracks.

            Gabriel gives a dry laugh. “I want you to mean that.”

            “Mean what?”

            “That you loved me and our family once. That some of my happiest memories of home weren’t lies,” Gabriel says. “I want to believe you.”

            “Then believe me and believe that I’ve changed, that I want to change!”

            “I can’t do that.”

            “Why?”

            “Because I know you. I’ve known you since before the lights came on. If you were ever going to change, you would have done it back then, back when our family was still around to comfort you. But you’re too proud for that, because to change, you’d have to admit fault. That you were wrong and someone else was right. You can’t do that.”

            Lucifer breathes. “Will you at least believe that I loved you?”

            Gabriel sighs and his next words are shaky. “I really want to. But I’m not that soft angel you knew anymore. You acknowledged it even. You’re a good liar, a good actor, a conman. So good that I can’t tell, but I don’t want to have to tell. I want to know that my brother wouldn’t lie to me about something like that. But it’s what you do. You manipulate and say what people want to hear, so you can snake your way into people’s hearts and hurt them.”

            “Gabriel…” He stops as Gabriel whirls around to walk away, coming right for us.

            I don’t know what we look like as Gabriel comes face to face with out group. Blue electricity still crackles around his body, making me step back, feeling the heat.

            I open my mouth, but hope Cass will come up with something to say before I have to, or Mom, or Sam, or even Jack, because damn. “Ah…”

            Gabriel’s withering glare kills anything I could have said. He shares that glare with our entire group, before storming away, grumbling things in another language that don’t sound kosher.

            I hear Sam and Mom say something to him, but they get nothing in reply.

            Jack comes to stand between Castiel and me, eyes on Lucifer still in the spot he’d been in when Gabriel had left.

            “He looks sad,” Jack observes. “Very sad.

            But sad over what Gabriel said, or something else entirely?

            I got nothing to say, as the King of Evil—Satan himself—blinks rapidly and looks skyward, a suspicious hint of glitter in his eyes, before he puts his back to us and walks away.

           

 

            Later that night, Bobby tells us that his people have agreed to come with us. And even later than that, Gabriel never comes to bed. I go out to check on him, even after Sam and Castiel warn me to leave him alone. I can’t, not after what I saw. That was brutal. I’m not gonna go hug the guy or anything, but I’ll feel better if I can say that I saw him tonight and that he’s nowhere near Lucifer right now. I don’t have to go far to find him. He sits alone atop the rusted roof of a car, counting stars. I give him a blanket, that he takes without a word, then go back to the little cabin Sam, Jack, Castiel, me and Gabriel share, setting up my cot and falling asleep.

            I dream about Hell… and depressed archangels. 

 

* * *

  
~*~

 

            “You’re letting Lucifer drive the bus?”   
            It’s the first thing Gabriel’s said since telling Lucifer off yesterday. Everything else has been nods, grunts, and glares in Lucifer’s general direction. He tries to be wherever his brother isn’t, which is easy because Lucifer seems to be avoiding him too.

            “Yeah,” I say. “That way we know what he’s doing the whole time and Cass can watch him.” I shrug and offer the guy a pat on the shoulder. He frowns at me, but nods and heads for the jeep parked just in front of the old school bus we salvaged from Bobby’s yard and readied for a road trip. It’s tight, but it fits all the refugees and it’s quicker than walking.

            “We’ve got about an hour and fifty-seven minutes before the rift closes, Dean,” Sam says, as he walks around the bus.

            “Let’s move!” I call out, heading for the jeep. I jump in the driver’s seat with Gabe in back already. Jack’s riding with us, because under no circumstances will he be riding with Lucifer—but where is he? I look around and spot a teenaged figure walking in the opposite direction of the jeep and the bus.

            “I’ll get him!” Sam says, jogging off after Jack. A minute later, Lucifer hops off the bus and follows. I snarl, grinding my teeth as I watch my brother and the Devil talking to Jack.

            “What are they talking about?” I ask.

            Gabriel sighs. “Jack thinks he can take Otherworld Michael on himself, and wants to stay behind to do it.”

            “What?” I demand. “Of all the stupid… Did he tell you about his plan and you’re just sitting here?”

            Gabriel looks annoyed. “I can hear them talking. Angels have super senses when we want them.”

            “Well, what he wants is not happening.” I start to get out, but see Lucifer patting Jack’s back and Jack nodding, and then the both of them walk back towards us. Sam grimaces and trudges after them. “What just happened?”

            “Lucifer talked sense into him,” Gabriel says, slumping down in the backseat and putting a hand over his eyes. “The kid’s riding with us, right?”

            “Damn straight,” I snap, making sure Lucifer gets his ass back on the bus, while Jack stays with Sam. I nod at seeing them walking this way and put my keys in the ignition. Revving the engine, I look back at Gabriel who’s still leaned back with his hand over his eyes. “Hey, you okay back there?”

            “I’m not gonna get carsick if that’s what you wanna know.”

            “That’s good to know,” I mutter, “but for real? You’re okay with the plan?”

            “The one where we force Lucifer to stay trapped here?” He lowers his voice and glances behind us at the bus. “Yeah, totally good with it. Best plan any of you have had in a long, long time.”

            I don’t know if I fully trust that answer, but if it doesn’t involve him actually having to skewer Lucifer, I’m sure he’s okay with turning his back on his brother. Either way, I’m shoving his ass through the rift before he can change his mind.

            “You get enough Twinkies for breakfast?” I ask.

            “I’m about as good on power as I’m gonna get right now,” Gabriel murmurs. “I’ll do my job.” He meets my eyes briefly before pulling a pair of sunglasses out of his backpack and relaxing again, like he’s on a real road trip. I know he didn’t sleep at all last night, so I don’t bitch at him.

            Jack and Sam reach the jeep, climbing in, Sam shotgun, Jack in back.

            “Let’s move.” I put the jeep in drive and navigate us through the sad remains of what was once the state of Ohio.

           

* * *

 

Author's Note: Let me know what you think. Please comment, and... thank you for reading! Take care!


	9. Chapter 9

Author's Note: And now, we're to the reason I wrote this story. A certain event will not happen in my SPN Universe. After this, the rest of what happens in Season 13 will be respected, but Season 14 is AU. Consider these chapters a build up to that. Welcome to Chapter 9!

* * *

 

 

Chapter 9

Gabriel

 

            Everything’s going to hell. About half of the refugees make it through the wavering rift before a bomb, that turns out to be the explosive entrance of Michael, crashes to Earth and kills five men in fatigues. Otherworld Michael is tall and handsome. He unfurls black wings as he steps toward us. I tighten my grip on my blade and feel Sam and Dean tense near me. The rift shimmers behind us, its dulling energy hums as more refugees hurry through one at a time. I won’t leave this place until they’re all through, even Sam and Dean.

            “Gentleman,” the alternate version of my brother greets us.

            Lucifer strides forward to meet him, and I shudder, standing back with Sam and Dean.

            Michael’s smile is twisted, smug, in a way my brother would never look. My Michael was never smug, didn’t really smile much; he was dutiful and diligent. He didn’t take pleasure in casualties, though he also didn’t mourn them.

            “Lu. You don’t really want to try this again, do you?” Michael’s voice is deep and raspy.

            “Um,” Lucifer drawls, “yeah.”

            I feel a hot wave of raw energy build inside Lucifer. He channels it in his hands, hurling it at Michael. It strikes Michael dead in the chest, but he barely flinches. He dusts himself off, raising his brows at Lucifer as if to ask, ‘That the best you got?’

            Holy shit. That ball of raw energy Lucifer just threw should have at least knocked him off his feet. He should be down, hurt. But he’s shaking it off like a minor jab from a fist. Oh no. There’s no way we can win this. Both Lucifer and I would have to be at full power. Our Michael and Lucifer were evenly matched, I don’t think this guy would have been even. He’s stronger than my Michael, and corrupt, and wrong, and evil.

            He’s Lucifer had he been stronger. This could have been our world.

            Michael hurls two energy blasts at Lucifer that have him on the ground, bleeding from the mouth and nose. Lucifer rolls onto his back, groaning in pain and obviously not getting up any time soon. I stare at him in horror. He’s not dead. I… I shouldn’t want to check on him. I shouldn’t care if he’s hurt.

But if he’s down, that leaves me.

            “Can it be?” the Other Michael says, sounding mockingly wondrous. “Gabriel?”

            I stiffen, swallowing and looking at him to find him grinning. He looks faintly surprised, but his smile doesn’t fade. He’s calling me out. I take a deep breath and glance at Sam and Dean who have ‘oh shit’ clearly stamped across their foreheads as they stare at Michael.

            “Go,” I urge them. “I-I can buy some time.”

            “Gabriel, don’t!” Sam says, about to reach for me, but I shake my head.

            “All I did on Earth was run,” I say firmly, more firmly than I feel—Good God what am I doing? “I’m not running anymore.” Oh God. I want to own up to those words—I also want to throw up. But—but I’m doing this. “Go!” I bark at them, then make my way to where Michael’s waiting for me to take my turn.

            He slides out his archangel blade, practically licking his lips. My skin crawls. He’s a bastardization of my brother. I should want to kill him for being an insult to Michael. I bring my blade up in challenge. Here we go.

            I stab out and he blocks me with a vicious down-swing that has the bones in my hand ringing. Crap. I give ground, then swing out again—and he blocks, catching me in the face with his elbow. My head pounds and my eyes blur for a moment as I’m whirled around. I suck in a breath and spin back, catching an approaching Michael with a right cross to the face. He jerks back from the force of my blow.

            Okay. I scored a hit. That’s one.

            Michael straightens, rubbing at his swollen lip and smirking at me. We trade more punches, I dodge a few, land a couple more, but I’m getting tired, and he’s still smiling. His blade flashes out again, and I catch it with mine.

            I think it’s coming.

            Am I ready to die?

            No.

            But it’s coming.

            He catches me in the face with his fist, hits me in the neck with the pommel of the blade, then grabs me, holding me in place—oh God, it’s coming. And where will I go? The Empty? Who will be there for me?

            I hear Sam and Dean screaming my name. I told them to go! Don’t let this be for nothing! I brace myself, ready to feel the blade enter my flesh—and feel air. I’m flying then skidding in the dirt on my ass.

            I sit up with a moan, staring at Lucifer, who’s back on his feet in front of Michael, with my blade in his hands. Did I drop it?

            Lucifer and Michael tango with the flashing blades, meeting each other blow for blow. Lucifer was always superb with his blade, as was Michael. They’d trained for hours, they’d thought it was fun.

            A few times, the blade comes too close to Lucifer. I can’t…

            I drag myself to my feet, stumbling back toward the fight.

            “Gabriel, let’s go!” Sam shouts at me. I turn to see the humans still here, the rift behind them fading. Foolish creatures.

            “Get out of here and close the portal!” I snarl at them. “Don’t let this be for nothing!”

            Sam looks ready to argue but Dean grabs him, throwing him through. The oldest Winchester looks at me, long and hard, before he nods, respect in his eyes, and passes through the portal.

            Good. I stagger to Lucifer and Michael, readying a blast of angel fire. It hits Michael in the throat and he roars, glaring at me and preparing a blast of his own—that Lucifer intercepts.

            “Get the Hell outta here!” Lucifer bellows at me.

            “You can’t beat him alone!”

            “Or with you!” Lucifer shouts. He hits Michael with a second dose of angel fire, ignoring the pain from Michael’s last blast that had been meant for me. Michael goes down on one knee and Lucifer charges at him with my blade. Michael rolls onto his back and kicks up, dodging Lucifer’s swipe, but Lucifer punches him in the face and gut, knocking Michael down.

            Without looking back at me, Lucifer yells, “I loved you, Gabriel.”

            I open my mouth as a blast of energy hits me in the middle, knocking me off my feet and blowing me straight back—through the closing rift.

 

            I skitter across a smooth linoleum floor and lay on my back, staring up at the ceiling of Sam and Dean’s Men of Letters Bunker. My body throbs and aches, my muscles weary, my grace sputters as it almost winks out of existence. I’m alive.

            I’m alive because…

            Hands help me sit up. Sam and Castiel kneel on either side of me, both asking questions I can’t hear. It’s all noise to me. I can’t focus. I drop my head into shaking hands, gasping as fear catches up to me, fear…and grief. I’m alive because Lucifer saved me from what should have been my fate. And now, he’s gone. That monster Michael will kill him.

            I have no brothers left.

            Tears flow as sobs wrack through me. A hand rubs my back, but doesn’t bring me comfort.

            My brothers are all gone. Dad is gone. And I’m alone for real.

            I cry until I’m too tired to keep on, and then I lie on the floor because no one stops me, and I go to sleep, because there’s nothing else I can do for anyone.

* * *

And this is where I'll leave the story for now. This story ended up being my NANO 2018 project because SPN Season 13 really pissed me off. It ended up turning into a series, but it really is something I wrote just for me. So, let me know if you'd like to read more. If not, I'll go back to other projects. Take care!

 


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Castiel

 

            After a few weeks, the refugees have made the multiple rooms of the bunker into their homes. Dean, Sam, and Jack keep their own separate rooms and made sure Mary had one to herself, but all the rest of us share, me being put in with Gabriel. Mainly because I don’t sleep and it’s best that someone a little hardier than a regular human sits with him during the night. His nightmares, the first few nights after our return from Apocalypse World, were epic. A lantern, a bed and a bedside table were reduced to ash as his powers spiked out of control. He apologized and vowed not to sleep until he fixed it. He passed out cold a few times from exhaustion and I started sitting with him. I monitor him and wake him before the dreams turn too ugly, and it works.

            I sit across from Gabriel at the kitchen table. The room is empty, most of the refugees leave rooms when Gabriel enters them. They don’t know what to make of him, and they’re afraid he’ll burn them up. They’ve all seen firsthand what archangels can do, and Gabriel’s not stable. At least, not stable enough to be left alone for long.

            He picks at his food. Sam and Dean brought home a serving of birthday cake pancakes from an IHOP thirty miles out. Sam claimed that they were headed back that way from a job and just stopped there because they were hungry, but I know there are also several burger joints and a few health-food chains in that same direction. They went to IHOP for Gabriel. And guilt from him also knowing this makes him attempt to eat.

            His vessel needs food, because his flickering grace can’t feed it. Gabriel’s human body is thinner than it was when he’d first come to us, the shadows beneath his eyes darker. He’s constantly cold, suffers headaches, and often zones out. I want to shove the food in his mouth and make him eat it, but I don’t think he’d like that.

            “You have to do better than this,” I say to him as he nibbles the edges of a pancake while staring at a wall.

            Sad, greenish gold eyes meet mine. “I know.”

            “Then why?”

            “I know I need to do better, but my body doesn’t,” he says. “It wants to lie down and not get up. I don’t understand it either.”

            “Because angels don’t understand human depression.”

            Gabriel and I both look to see Arthur Ketch entering the kitchen. He goes to the coffee pot, scowling at the cold coffee left behind and moving to the sink to pour it out.

            “Human bodies experience physical symptoms as well as mental symptoms when they grieve,” Ketch says matter-of-factly as he washes the pot. “Your grief is manifesting itself as an illness. Food makes you want to vomit. You have no desire to do anything because you’re feeling lethargic. And so, you don’t eat, and you don’t exercise, which makes your body even weaker.”

            Gabriel raises a brow. “You gonna prescribe some angel Prozac, doctor?”

            “If there is a such thing, then yes. It might certainly speed this tiresome process along,” Ketch says, filling the now clean coffee pot with filtered water from the sink. “But since I believe that there isn’t, another route is therapy. You need to discuss what happened.”

            Gabriel cringes, pushing the pancakes away.            

            I sigh. In almost two weeks, Gabriel still hasn’t told us what exactly occurred between him, Lucifer and Michael. All he would say after we picked him up off the floor the night we returned is that Lucifer saved him, and that’s all he keeps saying.

            “Let us help you,” I say to him. “We want to.”  
            Gabriel lowers his head.

            The coffee pot perks and I smell a fresh brew roasting. Ketch stands near the pot, leaning on the counter and observing Gabriel.

            “Can your vessel die of natural causes with you in it?” he asks, tone neutral.

            Gabriel looks up, dazed. I stare at Ketch.

            “No,” Gabriel says. “My grace heals it of mortal afflictions, or at least it should. It doesn’t seem to be doing a very good job of it now. If this human body dies, I’d still possess it.”

            “Jimmy Novak is dead,” I say.

            “But your grace keeps the vessel fresh,” Ketch says. “Correct?”

            “Yes,” I say—and suddenly know what he’s getting at.   

            “It seems,” Ketch drawls, “that when an angel’s grace dwindles, his or her vessel can be affected by human weaknesses. And if the grace is not substantial enough to maintain the vessel…”  
           

            “You think the body could decompose while I’m in it,” Gabriel says. “Possible.”

            Ketch hums. “And if that happens?”

            “I’ll need a new vessel,” Gabriel says. “And seeing as ones that can contain archangels are hard to come by, and I haven’t been in touch with any of my bloodline for decades…”  
           

            “You would need to go back to Heaven,” I finish. Hope inspires me. “Gabriel, you should go back to Heaven, let it heal you and then you can stay and help it.”  
           

            “Go back to Heaven where my father is not. Where my brothers will never ever be again. Where the other angels will question why I’m so messed up. How did I let a demon violate me? Where’s my grace? Why did I let a demon take it? And how…how can I mourn the Devil?” Gabriel buries his fingers in his hair. “No.”

            I don’t want to push that Heaven needs him, not now. He’ll fracture further.

            “But if you don’t go and this vessel does burns out, what will it mean for you? You’d wander the Earth bodiless. You’d want that?” Is he truly that far gone? I hold my breath as I wait for his answer, and sigh in relief when he shakes his head.

            But what can we do for him?

            “Well, then, we’ll need to heal your vessel here,” Ketch says. “And to do that, you’ll need to start talking to someone. If you’re not comfortable with Castiel, or Sam or Dean, I’m sure we could find someone who…”

            “Cass! Cass, we need you!” Dean bursts into the room, stopping to gawk at the fact that me, Gabriel and Ketch seem to be carrying on a conversation that’s driving Gabriel into a nervous breakdown. “What are you guys doing?”

            “Just discussing the fact that your archangel here needs a shrink,” Ketch says. “Nothing more. Go on with your business, but what will you do with this one if you take Castiel away?” Ketch nods to Gabriel.

            Dean curses. “Ah…”

            I can’t leave Gabriel unattended in the bunker. “Do you really need me?” I ask.

            “Yes,” Dean sighs. He looks at Gabriel, then at me, mouthing: What happened?

            I shake my head and rise from my seat. I reach over, touching the top of Gabriel’s head. “Are you up for a trip?”

 

* * *

 

~*~  


            “…doesn’t look like anything supernatural happened to her,” Mary says.

            We stand around Maggie’s lifeless body, staring at the blood congealed around her head. We’re only a mile or so away from the bunker, in the woods behind it that lead to a single-lane road. Rain falls in a light mist, Mary shares her umbrella with Gabriel after snapping at me, Sam and Dean for not bringing one.

            “It looks like someone beat on her until she died.” Bobby shakes his head.

            “A man did this,” Jack murmurs. “But who would do it?” His eyes shine with tears.

            “We’ll need to question people in the bunker,” Dean says. “Find out when she left, and if she was with anyone.”

            “You think one of our people did this?” Jack asks.

            Sam gives him a sympathetic look. “We don’t know, Jack, which is why we’re going to ask around. Come on.”

            “You all riding with us, or walking back?” Dean asks. “We can squeeze you all into the car.”

            “I’m not squeezing into no car, boy,” Bobby says. “I walked myself here and I’ll walk myself back.”  
           

            “I’ll walk back with you,” Mary says, but passes her umbrella to Gabriel. “Stay under this, and as soon as you boys get back, this one gets a hot shower.” She squeezes Gabriel’s shoulder. “It’ll take Bobby and me a little while to get back, but you can wait for us before you start asking questions.”

            “Yes, ma’am,” Dean says and I smile a little as Mary stands on her toes to kiss his forehead, then Sam’s. They both blush and bluster toward the car. I give the small of Gabriel’s back a push to urge him along after them and follow.

            This murder happened too close to home, and it seems a human may be the perpetrator. I feel terrible for bringing Gabriel out to see this. “I hope you aren’t upset,” I say to him.

            Gabriel shrugs. “I’ve seen a lot of dead humans in my time, Castiel. One more doesn’t affect me.” He seems confused and I have to remind myself that no matter how human Gabriel seems right now, he’s an angel. There are emotions that are harder for us to feel, and angelic indifference is first nature. Since Gabriel does not personally know Maggie, he’s not invested, meaning while he may be sorry that she died, he won’t lose sleep over it. It’s just harder to care when it’s not personal. That’s how we were made; and one of the many ways human beings are better than us. They can hurt for strangers.

            “Right,” I say. “Just don’t say that around humans.”  
           

            “I know,” Gabriel says, smiling a bit. “It creeps them out.” He frowns as his nose twitches, then he takes a sharp breath and sneezes. I blink at him, feeling as shocked as he looks. “What the Hell was that?”

            “A sneeze,” I answer. “But why did you sneeze?”

            “I know what it was, but yeah.” He rubs at his nose. “Why did I?” He does it two more times before we reach the car. Each time more baffling than the one before it.

            “This has never happened to me before. Has it happened to you?” he asks.

            “No,” I say. “H-how do you feel?”

            “Miserable,” Gabriel mutters, “but I’ve been miserable for a long time. But now…I feel funny too.”

            “Funny how?”

            “I don’t—”

            “Would you two get in the car already!” Dean rolls down the passenger side window to snap at us. Sam sighs, but calls out to us too, “We really do need to go.”

            Gabriel closes the umbrella then opens the back door sliding in next to Jack, sitting in the middle space. I sit next to him, closing the door. Dean takes off before I can buckle in. Gabriel shivers in the middle, blowing into his hands.

            Dean’s eyes gaze at us through the rearview mirror and I hear and feel a rush of warm air blow into the backseat. “That heat good enough for you back there?” Dean asks.

            Gabriel nods, but shivers for the duration of the ride back to the bunker.

            As we get out of the car, I look to Sam and Dean. “I’ll help Gabriel and join you in a bit,” and Gabriel glares at me.

            “I can handle myself, Castiel,” he says. “I’m gonna get a shower and maybe… a nap.”

            Sam clears his throat. “Uh, maybe hold off on that nap until one of us can be there?”

            Gabriel’s ire turns on Sam too, but he says nothing as he marches away, toward the bathrooms.

            “Geez,” Dean grumbles. “We really need to figure out a way to help that dude get some sleep. His bitchiness is borderline scary.”

            “Do we really have to wait for Mary and Bobby to get here before we question people?” Jack asks, he fidgets, clenching and unclenching his fists at his sides. “I want to know who hurt Maggie.”

            “We all do, Jack,” Sam says softly. “But Mom and Bobby want to be here to help. Maybe they might pick up on something we don’t when we question people.”

            Jacks makes a frustrated noise. “Then we should have made them ride in the car with us.”

            “They may need time to talk and think, Jack,” Sam says. “A girl they feel responsible for is dead.”

            “I was responsible for her too!” Jack shouts. His eyes flash a dangerous gold.

            “Jack, calm down,” Dean says. “We all feel responsible for her, because we brought her here. But what was she doing out there? Who was she talking to? We can’t be everywhere, and it’s not our fault that maybe she made the wrong friends. We don’t know. So, we’re going to ask. And we’re going to wait a little while before we ask. Okay? Do you want a snack, a soda? Something to do while we wait?”

            Jack huffs and stomps into the living room, throwing himself down on the couch.

            “Teenagers,” Dean breathes.

            “Or maybe it’s just a temperament that runs in the family,” Sam says, sounding amused. “Don’t forget his uncle just stomped out of here too.”

            “True,” Dean says, then frowns at me. “Castiel doesn’t throw temper tantrums, though.”  
           

            “Archangels are not the same as regular angels.” I’ve said this many times, and hopefully, one day it will set in. “They’re more than just stronger.”  
           

            “Yeah, yeah, Chuck told us how hard they are to make and how he didn’t have time to make more even to help us fight the Darkness,” Sam says. “Which is why we need to hold on to the one we have. Is he going to be all right, Cass?”

            And both Winchesters are suddenly focused on me for an answer I don’t know. “He—I think Ketch is correct,” I say slowly. “If Gabriel is going to be all right, as you put it, he needs to talk through his feelings of what happened in Apocalypse World and with Asmodeus. Ketch thinks Gabriel’s human vessel is reacting to his trauma in a way that humans do.”

            “Huh?” Dean scratches his head, but Sam looks thoughtful.

            “Oh, so Gabriel’s vessel is coping with his stress and his brain’s making hormones that…”

            “Hormones? Like PMS?” Dean’s a lost cause. I ignore him, wanting to hear more from Sam.

            Sam rolls his eyes. “Oh my—I’m not even gonna honor that with a response. I just—ugh!” Sam puts his attentions solely on me. “His human body is generating an excess of hormones that cause depression. And then there’s the trauma. Can we give him human medicine? We could try to hook him up with a psychiatrist. He’ll obviously have to adapt his story, but he could get a prescription for something that he’d probably have to overdose on for it to be effective.”  
           

            “We can get pills without a doctor,” Dean butts back in. “We just need to figure out what he needs.”

            “But we’re not doctors, Dean, so we don’t know what he needs,” Sam says through his teeth, then seems to have an epiphany. “We can call Mia Vallens! Maybe she’ll help. She owes us.”

            “Who is Mia Vallens?” I ask.

            “A grief counselor,” Sam says.

            “A shapeshifter,” Dean adds. “We helped her out back when you were—you know—gone. Nice lady, bad taste in men, though.”

            “We can call her after… this,” Sam says. “It can’t hurt anything. She’s really good at what she does.”

            I’ll have to take his word for it, since I don’t really know what grief counselors do, aside from what the title obviously states. She counsels grief, but how does one do that? I must look lost because Sam chuckles at me.

            “She’s good at getting people to talk. Hell, she got Dean to talk.”

            “Only because I wanted her to stop looking at me all crazy,” Dean complains.

            “But you felt better after.”

            “A little.” Dean looks moody. “Hey, shouldn’t Mom and Bobby be back? Damn they walk slow. I’m grabbing a beer.”  
           

             Sam and I exchange looks as Dean heads in the direction of the kitchen.

            “Ketch analyzed Gabriel and decided all that,” Sam says.

            “Yes,” I confirm. “Gabriel acknowledged it.”  
            “Funny how it takes that guy to tell us what we should have figured out right off,” Sam says with a sigh. “But it’s not like we haven’t been busy. I’m really sorry that so much of looking after Gabriel is falling on you, Cass.”

            I frown. “Do you think you would have figured out what’s wrong with Gabriel if you’d have been looking after him more than me?”

            “Well…” Sam looks guilty. “Ah… I mean, you have to admit human things like that get by you. And Gabriel obviously isn’t too keen on things like it either, or Ketch wouldn’t have had to point it out to him. All I’m saying is that we should share the task. Gabriel saved our asses back in Apocalypse World. He was willing to sacrifice himself for us. And he would have, if not for something Lucifer did. I respect him for that, owe him for that, and he’s become a friend.”  
           

            I hum, still feeling a bit insulted.

            “Cass, it’s not your fault. You’ve been awesome. But, since you’re going to sit with him tonight while he sleeps, let me hang with him for the rest of the day—uh, after the questioning that is.”

            “Only if he wants any of our company,” I say. “He seemed quite angry.”

            “He’ll get over it,” Sam says. “Did he eat those pancakes?”

            “A few bites,” I say. “He tried. Maybe he’ll have more later on.”

            Sam runs a hand through his hair. “We should probably start buying him some of those meal replacement shakes. There are a few brands that actually taste really good. He’s losing weight.”

            “I’ve noticed.”

            Neither of us have anything else to say after that, so we join Jack in the living room until Mary and Bobby arrive. Once they do, as a team we decide how we’re going to call in the refugees we want to question and what our tactics will be. We also discuss how we’ll deal with the murderer, if we find out there’s one in the house.

            Jack’s eyes flash every few moments, worrying me, because I don’t know if he’ll be able to stay calm or rational during the interrogations. But I do know that if we try to bar him from the questioning procedures, he’ll rebel, and do something stupid.

            Once the plan is set, Bobby goes to collect a small sample of the refugee population to bring them in for general questioning. We need to know how everyone around here feels about Maggie. Jack’s eyes track Bobby as he leaves and I make eye contact with Mary, Sam and Dean. It seems we’re all watching Jack, but it also seems that none of us knows just what to do with him.

 


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Sam

 

            When I volunteered to hang with Gabriel after the questioning, I didn’t know I was signing up to stay behind while Dean and Cass chase after Jack. Maggie’s friend told us that Maggie had gone out last night to meet a date—a guy who worked at the convenience store just off the highway. Jack vanished, leaving us to think there’s only one place he would go—to the store. And the anger in his voice and eyes before he disappeared told us that he was going to do some damage.

            I was charging after Dean, when Cass grabbed my arm and said ‘Sam, it’s your turn to look after Gabriel. One of us has to stay here.’ And then he’d gone with Dean and I stayed to babysit. Mom could do this. She likes Gabriel, even coddles him sometimes, making him hot chocolate and pulling blankets hot from the dryer to put over his shoulders. She even scolded us today for letting a couple of drops of rain hit the archangel, like he’d melt.

            But I can tell it meant something to Cass to be able to pass the torch of responsibility to me. Like I’d mind. I didn’t lie to Cass; Gabriel is my friend. I don’t need to be asked to take care of him, and it sucks that I didn’t realize how much we’d put on Cass. So, fine.

            I knock on Gabriel’s door, then enter the room to find him curled up on his bed, eyes closed. I shudder, recalling times after nightmares where his closed eyes would snap open, revealing incandescent blue retinas ready to reduce someone to cinders. His eyes open now, as I sit in the chair beside his bed. They’re normal, and tired and sad.

            “Hey,” I say simply.

            “Hey.”

            “Dean, Cass and Jack are following a lead on Maggie’s killer,” I say. “Her friend told us she went out to meet some guy last night.”

  
            “You think the boyfriend did it?” Gabriel asks. His voice sounds rusty. He clears his throat, wincing a bit.

            “Are you okay?” I ask.

            He nods.

            “Well, I don’t know if the boyfriend did it. I guess they’ll find out,” I say. “I hope not, and if so, I hope he’s demon possessed. You never want to find out a regular human could do something like that.”

            “But they can,” Gabriel says. “I’ve seen them do it. Human nature can be very nasty… but also very beautiful. It’s a yin and yang principle. There can’t be light without dark and vice versa.”

            “You think humans are beautiful?” Does he?

            “Yeah,” Gabriel says softly. “They’re fragile and fleeting, yet they live so marvelously. Creating things with their hands, composing music, painting masterpieces, baking chocolate cakes that taste like sunshine and rainbows.”

            “You like us for our cake.”

            “That I do,” Gabriel says with a slight grin. “And your candy bars, and chocolate milk and gummy bears… So much good stuff.” He sniffles and lets out a small sneeze.

            I start. Castiel’s never sneezed. Gabriel sighs and rubs at his nose, sniffling again.

            “Gabriel, are you…” I just asked him that, and he said he was fine. But I reach out, dropping a hand on his forehead. My eyes go wide. “I think you’ve got a fever. Can angels run fevers?”

            “No,” Gabriel says. “I’ve never heard of it happening, especially not to me.”

            “But you’ve been doing a lot of non-angelic things lately. You need to eat and sleep, you’re cold, you’ve been getting headaches. I think you’re so rundown that you’re actually sick.”

            Gabriel shakes his head. “I’m fine.”

  
            “I’m getting a thermometer,” I say. “I’ll be back.” I get up, patting Gabriel on the head as he glowers at me, then jog off to the bunker’s infirmary. The thermometer is easy to find in the well-organized clinic and I bring it back to Gabriel in no time and have him stick it under his tongue.

            It’s an old-fashioned mercury thermometer, but it should work just fine. We really should stop into a store to pick up a more accurate digital one though. I’ll do it next time I’m out. I time how long Gabriel’s had the slim cylinder under his tongue with my watch, and after a minute, I pull the device from his lips, staring at it.

            “A little over one hundred degrees,” I say, frowning down at the archangel. “You really do have a fever.” But what do we do for it? Human medicine? We could try it. “What hurts?”

            “Everything?” Gabriel says. “Is feeling gross a symptom of being sick?”

            “Definitely,” I say. “Let me get you some water and some painkillers. We’ll see if they do anything for you.”

            Gabriel sighs and nods, pulling his blankets up to his chin. “I can get my own water and painkillers too. I’m not useless.”

            “Yeah, you probably can, but you’re all nice and comfortable and I’m ready to get up. So, it makes more sense for me to go to the kitchen.”

            Gabriel hums his agreement.

            “I’ll be back again.” I leave the room. Crap. A sick archangel. I don’t know what to give him… or what he has? A cold, the flu? Oh—is he contagious? With all the people in this bunker an outbreak of colds and flus would be awful! And with him catching it, it probably means somebody already has it and it’s already spreading. I did not think about needing to take CDC-like precautions in this place, but I should have.

            We’ve brought more than 30 people into this world from another. People who might be carrying all sorts of germs and viruses that maybe we don’t have in this world—or maybe it’s not that serious, but still. We’re all in an enclosed space, in close quarters. If one person gets a cold, we’re all gonna get it, eventually. And if it’s the flu, oh man. Forget grabbing a digital thermometer next time I’m out, I’m getting a flu shot.

            I make my way back into the infirmary, gathering cold remedies that might help Gabriel, as well as painkillers, then head for the kitchen. There’s a commotion in the library. Voices shouting in alarm. I head toward the noise, arms loaded with cold meds and drop them all on the floor at the sight of Lucifer standing in our library next to Jack.

            “What the—” I stammer.

            “Heya Sammy! Miss me?” Lucifer’s grin is bright.

            “Lucifer is going to bring Maggie back to life!” Jack tells me, face eager as Lucifer’s grin evaporates.

            “I am?” His attention goes to Maggie’s corpse laid on a table. We were waiting to giving her a hunter’s funeral.

            “Yes!” Jack says. “Go on, you can do it!”

  
            I watch the previously assumed dead archangel make excuses before finally giving in to his son’s wants. Lucifer presses his hand to Maggie’s forehead and a dull glow flows from his palm into her. He pulls his hand away as Maggie sits up with a gasp, eyes wild.

            Jack laughs, joyful. “Maggie, you’re back!”

            The girl says nothing as she stares at all of us like we’re monsters about to eat her alive. Mom goes to her. “Maggie, how are you feeling?” she tries.

            Maggie screams.

            “What’s wrong with her?” Jack asks Lucifer. Lucifer shakes his head, lip slightly curled. “I told you, bringing people back isn’t always roses. Sometimes, they come back wrong. Crazy, flesh-eating, dumb. You get what you get.”

            Jack gapes at Lucifer as Mom calms Maggie down. Jack’s lower lip trembles and I almost get excited, thinking maybe the kid’s finally about to denounce the Devil, throw him out. But…

            “Lucifer?”

            Gabriel’s voice. My head whips around to find him standing behind me in sweat pants and a hoodie, eyes round, breathing unsteady.

            Lucifer looks over, and all the bravado seems to drain out of him for a second as he looks Gabe up and down. “You still look like shit.”

            “How…”

            “I got away. I’m resourceful like that.”

            Gabriel pushes past me, making his way to Lucifer who doesn’t move.

            “I thought you were dead,” Gabriel says. “Michael was going to kill you. How did you win?”

            “Doesn’t matter. Just know that I did.” He makes a face as he continues to study Gabriel. “What’s going on with you now? I didn’t save your ass for you to fall apart. Obviously, you still can’t take care of yourself and these humans can’t take care of you either.”

            Gabriel doesn’t object, simply staring at Lucifer.

            “Gabe, don’t listen to him. Why don’t you go back…”

            My mouth falls open as Gabriel…he… he hugs Lucifer. I’m gonna be sick. I can’t believe he willingly did that and… Lucifer’s arms come up, hugging Gabriel and rubbing his back. They’re…

            “I didn’t want you to die,” Gabriel says.

  
            “Brat,” Lucifer says, rolling his eyes. He pushes Gabriel away lightly, still looking him over. “Hold still.” He touches his palm to Gabriel’s forehead. “Let’s see if I can…” He hisses and pulls his hand back. “Not yet. Let me build up a little more power, and I’ll get you better.”

            Gabriel says nothing, but his continued proximity to Lucifer says everything. Is he going to switch sides, go with Lucifer against us? Jack stands near Lucifer too. This is not good at all.

            “Hey, guys, so it was good to see you all. Glad you’re feeling better, Maggie,” Lucifer says, talking quick as a sales rep—a slimy, oily snake. “But I need a little time to talk to my son, and baby brother here, alone.”

            “We can go to my room,” Gabriel says with a shrug. “I’ll show you.” He starts to move, a bewildered expression on his face, he seems to be in a daze. As he brushes by me again, I catch his arm.

            “Gabe, what are you doing? You guys should talk out here where we all can see and hear. You can’t trust him.”

            The bags under Gabriel’s eyes are so dark they look like smudges of black and blue ink. He shrugs. “I just—I want to hear what he has to say. We’ll only be a minute.” He shuffles past. Jack follows, giving me a thumbs up.

            “Jack…”

            “We’re just going to talk, Sam! Lucifer has good things to say!”

            He moves by me, and then it’s Lucifer’s turn. I don’t touch him, but I snarl a warning, “If you hurt them…”

            Lucifer has the nerve to look offended. “Hurt them? Sam, that’s my son and my little brother. There are no two beings on Earth I want to hurt less than them. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to spend a little time with _my fam_. Step aside.”

            I realize that I put myself in front of him. We stare each other down for a moment, before I move and Lucifer trails after Gabriel and Jack to talk about God knows what. I start to go after them, so I can listen at the door or something, but Mom’s voice stops me.

            “Sam, help me with Maggie.”

            Right. I turn back to look at the newly revived girl. She’s pale with tears on her cheeks. She bites her lip hard, seeming terrified. I join Mom beside her.

            “Hey Maggie, it’s all right.”

            She sniffles, eyes watering again as Mom strokes her hair. “Sam, you talk to her while I go get her some fresh clothes and something to drink.”

            I nod, watching Mom move away and pull up a chair to sit next to Maggie, who sits up on the table, clutching the blanket we’d covered her with around her body. There’s one thing I really want to ask, that might be inappropriate right now, but if there’s a killer at large, we need to know. We’ve got other girls living here that we need to protect.

            “Maggie?” The girl looks at me. “I know it’s—that it may be hard right now, but… what’s the last thing you remember?”

 


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Dean

           

            Michael’s here. Apocalypse World Michael is freaking here.

            How. Why. When. It doesn’t matter. He’s here and seems to be at full power, and will probably go after Jack and Mom because he’s a vindictive bastard. We gotta get back to the bunker, gotta warn everybody, get them out of there. My phone rings and I answer it, one hand on the wheel as Baby flies down the road.

            Almost home. I don’t know how long that holy fire will hold Michael.

            “Dean, get here, now!”

            “Sam! You gotta get Mom outta the bunker! Michael’s here! We just trapped him in a ring of holy fire, but I don’t think it’s gonna hold him long. He’ll probably come after you guys and I bet he’ll find the bunker. And Jack’s gone missing. He ran out on us.”

            Sam cusses a blue streak. “Jack was here with Lucifer, and Lucifer took him and Gabriel!”

  
            “Lucifer?!” I stare at Cass, open-mouthed. “Lucifer’s here? Is everybody else okay? What do you mean he took Jack and Gabriel?”

            “Y-yeah, everybody’s okay, but… Just get back here!”

            I cuss and slam my hand on the wheel. “We’re five minutes out, but don’t wait for us! Start evac’ing the place now. We’ll be in to help!” I hang up.

            “Lucifer took Jack and Gabriel from the bunker, but left everyone else alive?” Cass asks. “Why would he do that?

            “Maybe he needs them for something, I don’t know. Maybe he wants to take their grace, but you’re right. Why not get rid of people who might come after him?”

  
            “Do you think he’s working with Michael,” Cass asks.

            I have no answer.

            “Drive faster,” Cass says gravely.

            No argument here. Pedal touches metal.  
           

            We reach the bunker in record time, storming through a sea of thirty people, some with bags of supplies, rushing downstairs to the garage. In the huge car bay, Bobby, Sam and Mom break refugees into smaller groups of three and four, doling out car keys and sending groups to assigned cars to hit the road. They don’t have maps or GPS, I don’t know how they’ll find this place again or know where they’re going, but they gotta get as far away from here as they can.

            As the garage empties, Cass and I join Mom, Bobby and Sam.

            “Are you boys okay?” Mom demands, frazzled but on guard. She’s ready for a fight. God, I love my mom.

            “Y-yeah, we’re good. Okay, uh—Mom you got GPS. You and Bobby grab a car, and Sam, Cass and I will join up with you later. We should probably split up,” I say.

            “What? No,” Mom says. “We need to stay together. If we leave out in a different car than yours, then you need to be following, or we need a meeting place a few hours out.”

            “Meeting place a few hours out then, because we need to…”

            It feels like the whole world rocks. The lights flicker and a high-pitched wail threatens to shatter my ear drums. Oh no, oh no…

            “He’s here,” Castiel breathes. “You two have to go!”

            “We’re not leaving you here to…”

            “We’ll hold him off as long as we can to buy time for you and the others to get farther away. Mom, Bobby, that group out there needs you. If anybody can find a way to bring them all back together, it’s you! Go! We’ll catch up!”

            “But…”

            Another earthquake.

            Mom hugs me, then Sam and Castiel and she and Bobby run to a car, starting it up. We watch it motor out of the open garage and stare out at the small army of cars taking to the dirt paths leading away from the bunker.

            I shoot a look at Sam and Castiel before running out of the garage and up the stairs to the main floor. Electricity crackles as something pounds at the vaulted, steel-enforced entryway to our headquarters. It splinters inch by inch until Michael kicks his way through. His eyes blaze as he glowers at us, a sneer on his lips.

            I whip out my gun and fire, more bullets erupt from either side of me; Castiel and Sam copying my actions. They strike and ricochet off Michael as he stands there, unaffected. He floats down from the top of the stairs until he stands in front of us.

            Castiel pulls out his angel blade and charges Michael. Michael flicks him like a fly, Castiel slams into the work table.

            “You really thought you could run from me?” Michael growls, his words drip with disgust. Sam rushes at him, and Michael throws him across the room. I take that minute to pick up Castiel’s fallen blade and charge Michael too. He catches my sword-arm and twists it back, making me drop the angel blade. He nails me in the face, then knees me in the gut, before punching me again. I fall to the floor, coughing for air, struggling to get back up. Michael grabs me around the throat dragging me up. I choke, trying to fight him off, but his grip is too strong. Spots swim in my vision.

            “How did you--?” I rasp.

            “Get here?” Michael smiles. “Easy. I made a deal. And now,” he coos to me, “this world is mine to save.”

            “Oh, like that stellar job you did back in your own world?”

            “I made mistakes. Wasn’t perfect. But second time’s the charm, right?” He brings me closer to him, hand tightening around my throat, my feet scrabble over the floor, not quite touching the ground—can’t breathe.

            “Your soul will be the first one I save in this new world. Some would consider it an honor.”

            “Well,” I choke, “as Shakespeare once said…” and you know what, if I gotta go out, I’m going out a bad ass, “eat me, dickbag.”

            I hear a crack as Michael squeezes tighter. Blood roars in my ears as my vision clouds over.

 


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Gabriel

              
            “We can go anywhere really,” Lucifer’s saying. “Nothing’s keeping us here. Let’s travel. See the stars, the planets.”

            “You’ve got the juice for that?” I ask, raising a brow. I’d come with my brother because he said he had something to show me and his offspring. He’d transported us to a fenced-in yard of a Catholic Church in a rural town. The lack of city lights and other modern disturbances make the stars easier to view in the night sky.

            Lucifer shrugs at me. “Not alone, but with Jack, we can get there.”

            “ _You_ want to see stars?” I can’t believe it, but I’m also still trying to grasp that he’s here.

            I was so sure Michael had killed him. How could he have gotten away? Something’s not right. I need to be trying to figure this out, but at the same time, I’m just so relieved that my brother isn’t actually dead. I’d be the last archangel, a lone artifact—and though I hadn’t wanted to actually live with my family, I don’t want them to be gone either.

            There’s a void in my chest that Lucifer’s return eased a bit but still, there’s a kernel of worry and doubt in my mind. I can’t trust my brother. I know I can’t.

            A shiver wracks me and I blow in my hands, warming my fingers. I’d slipped on a hoodie, jeans and sneakers, not planning on being outside. But why would Lucifer warn me about having us stand around outdoors. Angels don’t feel temperature—at least non-pathetic ones don’t.

            “Gabriel’s cold,” Jack says, noticing. Bless this child. He puts a hand on my shoulder. “He hasn’t been feeling well and shouldn’t be out here. Mary was mad earlier that Sam and Dean brought him out in the rain and let him get wet.”

            Thanks, kid. Now, Luci knows how much of a loser I am. “I’m fine,” I huff.

            Lucifer sighs, eyeing me. “When my grace was really low, I felt as bad as you look. We can go in the church. Nobody’s in there. Come on.”

            He walks in front of Jack and me, hands in his pockets as he whistles tunelessly. Jack walks beside me.

            “It could be fun, huh?” he says. “If you and me both go with him. I want to see what’s in the sky and how life is made. And I can learn to control my powers better, from Lucifer and you. You can teach me too.”

            The kid’s kind of cute in an innocent way. Strange to think he came from Lucifer. I snuffle, hating the feeling of wetness on my upper lip. I wipe it away with the back of my sleeve. I should have brought tissue, toilet paper, whatever it is humans use to blow snot into. Ugh. Gross. Snot. This cannot be my life.

            “And he probably will heal you,” Jack says. “Maybe I can loan him the power to do it. I can ask!”

            I hum along. “Look kiddo, I know you’re real excited about talking with your—your dad there. But, there’s a lot of about Lucifer you’ll never know, because you weren’t there to experience it. He says he’s changed, but that’s a lot of changing for him to do in a short period of time. My brother—he wasn’t always bad and I loved him. He could be mean and prideful and arrogant and rude, but he cared so much about certain things. His passion was inspiring, and when he loved something, that love was fierce and intense. But that intensity bred jealousy that was just as intense.”

            I keep my voice low, hoping Lucifer can hear the cadence of my voice but not make out the words.

            “It led to his fall,” I breathe. “Started a war in Heaven. Broke the family apart. And he went to his prisoner bitter and stewed for epochs, and came out just to start the war all over again. It hasn’t been that long since then, Jack. Think about it when he tells you about how nice he is now, and what he wants to do for you.”

            “And you,” Jack says. “He wants you to come with us.”

            And he saved me when he could have let me die and jumped through the rift with Sam and Dean. Or, he could have slit my throat and sucked out what’s left of my grace to use for himself, then left me for dead. But he chose to do neither.

            Oh God—Dad—guy that left us all—I wish I could trust my own brother.

            I sneeze so hard my back teeth ache and I feel it in my chest. Ow. Okay, humans are officially bad ass for going on with their lives when their heads feel like hot air snot balloons ready to pop. I think I need to lie down. A wave of weakness washes over me and the shivering starts again and doesn’t stop. Jack pats my back.

            “Are you okay?” He sounds so much like Sam. The Winchesters and Castiel really did right by him.

            I give him a little smile and nod. “Just peachy.”

            “Come on!” Lucifer calls from the open church door he leans on. Jack puts an arm around me and I enjoy his warmth as we enter the stone-cold church. The interior design is beautiful for such a rural location. Someone spent time and money on the pews, altar, deep blue upholstery, and artistic marble floors. Granite angels kneel and pray from perches on the walls. One has a horn. Is it supposed to be me?

            Lucifer laughs at that one. “You remember that horn, Gabe?”

            “The one you threatened to melt?” I ask.

            “Yeah, that’s the one and those were the days, huh? Whatever happened to that thing?”

            “I don’t know,” I muttered. It had been a gift from Dad. I’d played it until I mastered it, and then played some more, much to my brothers’ discontent. They hated the sound.

            “That big tantrum you threw when we demanded you stop and how you ran off had Dad pissed at us for years. When you came back, he told us we’d better smile when you played and made that horn a biblical reference. And you stopped playing. Just like that. Came back and wouldn’t even look at it.”

  
            I shrug. “I was bored with it the minute I mastered it. I only kept playing the thing to get on Michael’s nerves. When I came back and he didn’t act annoyed, it wasn’t fun anymore.”

            Lucifer blinks at me, mouth an ‘O’, before he laughs, loud and hard.

            That is a sound I haven’t heard in a very, very long time, the genuine laugh of a relative because of something I said or did.

            “Michael hated that thing more than I did. He complained to Dad so much. I don’t know that I’ve ever seen him that up in arms about something so… minute.”

            I grin. “Kept me buzzing through scales.”

  
            Lucifer laughs again. “If I’d have known that, I would have arranged a concert. Michael was so boring! To see something get under his skin like that…!”

            Jack frowns between us. “Michael?”

            “Our brother,” Lucifer says. “Not that monster you know. Remember, I told you about your real uncle Michael. He was the perfect son, did everything right on the first try, never questioned orders, always cleaned his room, ate his vegetables.”

  
            “He needed to eat?” Jack is confused.

            “No, just making metaphors, buddy,” Lucifer says swiftly. “And it was all so long ago. Sometimes, I forget there were times we were all happy.”

            “You and me both,” I mutter, sitting down on the soft cushion of a pew. After a minute, I lie down. My head spins; it feels good to rest. I shut my eyes. “How long are we going to stay here?”

            “Long enough for you guys to make a decision,” Lucifer says. “Do you want to come with me? If so, we should leave soon.”

  
            “Soon?” Jack asks.

            “Yeah, like in the next hour or so,” Lucifer says. “There’s no need to stick around once we know, and you won’t need to pack a bag for where we’re going.”

  
            “Okay, so we visit the stars for a few nights and come back to…”

            “It’d be longer than a few nights, kid. There’s a lot of stars out there,” Lucifer says. “We’ll be gone a while, but hey, we’ll come back, one day.”

  
            “You want me to leave Sam and Dean and Castiel…for a long time?” Jack asks, sounding a little panicked. A kid not sure if he’s old enough to go to sleepaway camp.

            “Uh,” Lucifer sounds unsure. “Yeah, but I mean, it’s time kid. You don’t really belong here with them. You belong with other angels, me and your uncle there. We can show and teach you and tell you about other celestials. You need to be with your own kind, leave this Earth behind.”

            “You sound like you’re running from something, brother,” I say, voice going croaky. Oh no, is this what a sore throat feels like? Being human is absolutely miserable.

            “Not running, I just don’t want to waste any more time, not with Jack or you. And I’m feeling spontaneous. You used to like spontaneity? What happened, get old, little brother?”

            “Yeah, I’m old all right.” And feverish. “Look, if the kid wants to go with you, that’s fine. But if he doesn’t, you should take him home.”

            “And you’ll come?”

            “You’d want me to go if the kid doesn’t?” I ask, not expecting him to say ‘yes’. He’d only asked me because I’m here, only brought me along because I was there.

            Lucifer hesitates, then says, “Yeah. Yeah, I would.”

            That hesitation is what makes me sit up and look at him. He’s not smiling or looking smug or confident. His hands are back in his pockets and his shoulders are hunched. God Almighty, I want to trust him.

            “I want to go,” Jack speaks up. “I’ll go.”

            Lucifer turns to Jack. “You mean it, buddy?”

            “I want to say goodbye to Sam, Dean and Castiel first. But yeah, we should—we should all go. You’ll come too, right, Gabriel?”

            And now they’re both looking at me.

            And honestly, what have I got to lose? There’s nothing going on for me here. And I can’t return to Heaven to help anybody like this. I don’t even want to. I swallow and wince at the burn. “Yeah, fine, sure. I’ll go too.”

            Lucifer claps his hands, looking as eager as me in a candy store. He wiggles his fingers. “Okay, let’s—”

            “But I have to say goodbye!” Jack says firmly. “Gabriel too. The Winchesters and Castiel were good to him.”

  
            I lie back down. I’m not too into moving right now. Bring the Winchesters and Cass here, but I’m not up to making another trip back to wherever they are.

            “Uh, okay. We can… buddy? What’s wrong?”

            Lucifer sounds worried, but I can’t sit up again to see what’s going on.

            “It’s—I think it’s Sam. He’s… calling me. He needs me!” Jack’s tone is urgent.

            “Wait, don’t…” Lucifer trails off, then cusses. I hear something get kicked over and then another cuss.

            “Such blasphemous language in a church,” I tut.

            “Shut up, you,” Lucifer snaps. “Ah, just—stay there, I’ve gotta go see where he went.”

            “He left?”

            “Yeah,” Lucifer sighs. Footsteps near me, and something warm is tucked around my shoulders. I open my eyes to see Lucifer walking away again. My fingers brush the stiff denim of the coat he’d been wearing.

            “Stay put,” he says, and then he’s gone.

            Staying put is easy. Figuring Lucifer out is not—and my head hurts so bad.

            I want to turn off my brain, no more thoughts, no more nightmares, no more anything. Going to the stars will be good, because I’ll have to leave my vessel and all of its human weaknesses behind. It’ll be all right. I said my real goodbyes to Cye long ago. He’d be okay with this.  

            Hurry back, brother. I think I’m ready to go.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Sam

 

            I pray to Jack. I know angels hear prayers, but Jack’s only half. It’s a longshot, a last ditch effort, but I don’t know what else to do. I’m watching Dean die, again, and I can’t stop it. And after Michael kills Dean, he’ll kill me and Castiel. We’re all dead.

            Dean gurgles and wheezes as Michael crushes his windpipe in one hand. His feet are completely off the ground now. I’m sorry, Dean. I’m so sorry, but wherever you go, I’m joining you. You won’t be alone.

            A blast of orange flame strikes Michael, making him release Dean as his body hurtles backward. He lands in a heap as Dean crashes to the floor, gasping and dry heaving. I stare at both angel and Dean, then blink at the appearance of Jack. I get to my feet.

            “J-Jack?”

            “I heard your prayer,” Jack says, his eyes dark and furious.

            A loud fluttering noise, like the swish of a massive cape or monster wings signals the appearance of Lucifer. I glare at him, as he gives me a cheerful wave.

            “Yeah, it’s me. Yay!”

            If I had an angel blade right now…

            “Uh, we done, buddy?” Lucifer ignores me now in favor of Jack whose full attention is on Michael.

            The downed archangel groans as he struggles to his hands and knees. Jack raises one hand, holding it out in front of him and making a fist. “You hurt my friends.” Michael writhes and howls as black veins line his face, dark blood, almost like tears, streams from his eyes. “You hurt my family!”

            Michael screams as the sound of cracking bones echoes through the room.

            “Whoa…” Lucifer breathes.

            “Lucifer, we had a deal!” Michael bellows, eyes clenched shut, teeth grinding, blood running in rivers from his eyes, ears, mouth and nose.

            “Oh, okay, game over!” Lucifer says, snapping his fingers. “Buddy, let’s go…”

            Jack whirls on Lucifer as Michael chokes on his own blood. “A deal? What does he mean?”

            I know we’re in the middle of a battle between a Nephilim and an archangel. The great Michael is on his knees, losing to our Jack—but the most interesting thing to me right now is watching the Lucifer show as the Devil backpedals, lying mouth flapping, speechless for a second. But the snake can only stay quiet for so long.

            “I-I-I don’t know. I didn’t—I didn’t hear what he said.” A look of total innocence crosses his face and I want to punch him, but I stand back.

            This is for Jack to see, and hear, and realize. He’s been open to listening to Lucifer and taking in his words, wanting to see good in his father. Nothing I, or Dean, or Cass could say, can say, will ever help him understand what Lucifer is. No, he’s got to see it for himself. It’s time. My stomach clenches in anticipation. It’s time to see Jack renounce the snake, reject the Devil.

            Dean coughs and stutters, before breaking in—and I want to shout at him to stop, let Lucifer try to explain this to Jack, but nothing much stops Dean. “They had a deal. Lucifer gets you. And Michael gets everything else. He’s going to nuke our world Jack, just like he did his.”

            The hurt and betrayal in Jack’s eyes is a knife in my own chest. Damn you, Lucifer.

            “Is that true?” Jack asks. “Is that—that why you wanted us to leave?”

            “Leave?” I can’t help but ask.

            “He—he wanted us to go to the stars. Me, and him, and Gabriel. We were talking about going right when you—”

            “What?” Castiel’s on his feet, no longer looking worse for wear. “And you were just going to leave the rest of us here to burn?”

            “Okay.” Lucifer holds out a hand. “Hold on a second. Let’s slow down, ‘cause I…” he actually looks at a loss for words, until his eyes light up, seeming to spark on some idea. “I’m not currently the bad guy here.” He gestures toward Michael, but I’m not going to let him steer the subject, won’t let Jack lose focus on his treachery.

            “Yeah, did you tell that to Maggie?” I deadpan, trying to reign in my fury. Me physically attacking Lucifer right now won’t do anyone any good.

            Lucifer’s eyes widen, clearly surprised. He’s about to say something when Jack jumps in. “What about Maggie?” he asks, voice rising in pitch.

            Lucifer licks his lips and I decide to answer for him. “Maggie saw the eyes of the person who killed her. The glowing red eyes.” I look right at Lucifer as I tell Jack what I learned after I questioned Maggie and had run to Gabriel’s room to find him, Lucifer and Jack gone without word to anyone.

            “You’re gonna—you’re gonna believe this guy?” Lucifer tries to laugh it off. “Come on, man. Sam hates me. He’ll say anything to get you on his side!”

  
            “Tell the truth!” Jack roars, burning gold as he extends a splayed hand in Lucifer’s direction. Lucifer jerks upright, head tilting as his eyes glow the same gold as Jack’s, the blood vessels around his eyes also taking on the same glow.

            Lucifer struggles, his first words croaky as if he’s trying not to speak. “She saw me when I was scouting out the bunker. She saw me and she screamed. So, I crushed her skull with my bare hands and it was warm and wet and I liked it.”

            Jack’s hand falls to his side as his expression slackens, his eyes going back to normal. In a slow, defeated voice he says, “You’re not my father. You’re a monster.”

  
            Lucifer grunts, looking away for a second, his expression something I can’t decipher. “Come on, man! Just…” He roars like an animal. “I tried with you. I really, really tried with you!” He looks like a caged beast, pent up energy ready to burst out, ready to strike. My muscles tense for a new fight to begin, but Lucifer keeps talking, and his voice…

            It’s not smooth or smug. It’s quiet and full of cold fury…and maybe a little hurt. “We could’ve been something, you and me. We could’ve remade the universe. It would have been great. We could’ve been betters gods than Dad. And I really wanted that, pal. I wanted that. To have a great and powerful family, again. Bu now if I can’t have it with you, I…” his voice breaks. He swallows, shaking his head and I swear I read regret in his body language. “I’ve got my brother. I can’t make archangels, but I can always make other kids. So, I don’t need ya. I just need your power.”

            I hear the swish of a blade being released, but I can’t move fast enough. In a blur, Lucifer slashes his blade across Jack’s throat, a small, shallow cut that bleeds blue angelic grace. Lucifer leans in, sucking the power from a seemingly enthralled Jack’s neck, then sealing the supernatural wound closed with two fingers. He grips Jack by his lapels, as he digests the new energy, eyes wondrous as he breathes. “Wow.”

            “Jack!” Dean yells.

            I know Lucifer’s next move before he does it. I know he’s going to teleport and take Jack away again, and I can’t let him. I feel like we’ll never see Jack again if I let him go. “No!” I yell, launching myself at Lucifer, grabbing hold of his shirt as the awful pull of teleportation drags me through space and time along with Jack and Lucifer.

 

            I sprawl hands and face first onto hard marble. I grunt at impact, opening my eyes to see the painted décor on the floor and recognize the religious symbols. I roll onto my side, quick to recover, and note that we’re inside an ornate church.

            Lucifer stands a few feet from me, supporting Jack with one hand. Jack’s head lolls forward, like he’s unconscious or in a deep sleep. “Really, Sam. Hitching a ride?” Lucifer’s voice is chiding. “I mean, do you ever quit?”

            “Go to Hell,” I snarl.

            “Hell—yeah. Been there, done that. T-Shirt wasn’t cute, so I burned it.” He lets Jack’s body slump to the ground and spins to kick me in the chin.

            My teeth knock together as I’m thrown back. I cry out, hand going to my face. I spit blood on the floor.

            “What’s going on…” someone groans from somewhere in the pews.

            I sit up, gaping at a sleep-hazy Gabriel in the middle of a row of pews rubbing at his eyes and squinting toward us. He takes in me, Lucifer and Jack.

            “What’s going on?” His voice is awake now. He scrambles to his feet and hope fills me, until he wobbles and grips the seat in front of him for balance. “Lucifer, what are you doing?”

            “Ah, Gabe, I was kinda hoping you’d sleep through this, but then again I wasn’t planning on Sammy the hitch-hiker either,” Lucifer says, sounding casual, friendly even. “Do yourself a favor, go back to sleep.”

            “What have you done?” Gabriel staggers out into the aisle, blue electricity crackles in his hair as his eyes take on the blue tint of angel fire.

            That bit of hope stirs inside me again.

            “I just went to get Jack. Turns out he doesn’t want to go with us after all. It doesn’t change our plans, though,” Lucifer says, raising his hands in a gesture of peace. “You save that power of yours, baby bro. Don’t make me hurt you.”

  
            “That’s the only thing you know how to do,” Gabriel says, shaking his head. He takes a deep breath and yells, “What have you done?” Thunder rumbles as blue sparks crackle over Gabriel’s entire body.

            “Stop that. You’ll hurt yourself,” Lucifer says, no longer teasing, but not angry either. He frowns at Gabriel. “Be an obedient little brother for once, go back to sleep.” He snaps his fingers and all at once, Gabriel’s flames go out and he collapses to the floor with a thud.

            “What did you do to him?” I whisper, staring at Gabriel’s still form.

            “Relax, Sammy. He’s only sleeping,” Lucifer says evenly. “After I get rid of you, and finish with the kid here, Gabe and I are going to make good on some old plans and start some new ones. It’ll be good working with family again—my real family, you see. This kid, he was—well, he was raised by you and Dean-o and that other guy.” He waves a hand. “Gabe, here, we go way back. That’s my favorite little brother. He adored me once. And—with a little memory adjustment—he’ll adore me again. And in this go-round, he’ll be dependent on me, won’t he? Ooh, I like the idea of that.”

            I feel utterly sick. “You’d do that to your own brother?”

            “What, help him find happiness? You really think he wants to remember Ass-modeus and what he did to him? You don’t think he’d rather forget the wars in Heaven? Oh, with this power I’ve got here, I can wipe _all_ that out. Why, I can take him all the way back to biblical times, and tell him—tell him there was an accident, but he’s okay now. I saved him and kept him until he was ready to wake up again… in about ten minutes. That’s all it should take to deal with you, hm? And that’s only because I want to play a game.”

            My heart pounds.

            “Wake up, Jack.” Lucifer snaps his fingers.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Castiel

 

            “What just happened?” Dean breathes, circling the area Lucifer, Jack and Sam had disappeared from. “What happened?”

            “The Devil won,” Michael coughs from his prone position on the floor. He groans and grunts as he gets to his feet, clutching at his wounds.

            Dean and I stand braced to fight the archangel again, but Michael winces, posture wilted.

            “How do we stop him?” I toss at him.

            Michael gives me a pitying look. “You don’t.” He tilts his head, seeming to consider Dean and me. “After consuming the Nephilim’s grace, Lucifer’s juiced up.” Michael sighs, leaning back on one of support pillars holding up the ceiling. “He’s super-changed. He’ll kill the boy, your brother. Hell, he could end the hold universe if he put his mind to it. And you thought I was bad.”

            “No, no you beat him. I saw you!” Dean says.

            “When he was weaker and I was stronger,” Michael says with a wet cough. “Believe me, I’d love to rip my brother apart. But now, in this banged-up meat-suit?” He smiles self-depreciatingly at the body he wears. “Not happening. This is the end. Of everything.”

            “No,” Dean murmurs.

            And he’s right. It can’t be over. Not after all we’ve gone through. We won against Lucifer and the first Apocalypse, the Leviathan, the Darkness. There’s no way we can lose here. But what can we do? We don’t know where Lucifer’s gone, what he’s doing…

            “What if you had your sword?”

            My entire being goes cold at Dean’s words. His back is to me, I see the rigid set of shoulders, the way he holds his hands clenched.

            His sword—the Michael sword. His body. No. No, Dean.

            “I am your sword. Your perfect vessel.”

            Michael’s dark eyes glitter with new interest. “Oh,” his voice is deep, “I know what you are.”

            “Dean, no!” I find my voice.

            “With me, you’ll be stronger than you’ve ever been. If we work together, can we beat Lucifer?”

            “Dean…” I move forward, anting to grab my friend, who’s ignoring me.

            “Can we?” Dean demands.

            “We have a chance,” Michael says.

            “Dean, you can’t!” I grab him and he turns to me, his face just as thunderous as I’m sure mine is.

            “Lucifer has Sam and Jack. Cas, I don’t have a choice!” His face goes from angry to desperate in the space of a second. He turns back to Michael. “If we do this, it’s a onetime deal. I’m in charge. You’re the engine, but I’m behind the wheel. Understand?”

            Dean sounds like he’s setting up the rules, like he’s in charge, but Michael’s smile sends chills up my spine.

            “Dean…”

            My warning goes unheeded as Dean looks at Michael and says, “Yes.”


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Dean

 

            The power strumming through my body is freakin’ amazing. I’m Dean a billion point-oh. I extend my senses, and know just where Sam, Jack and Lucifer are and when I close my eyes, I’m there. I stand in the doorway of the church, letting power sizzle around my body, displaying my massive wing-span as I stare Lucifer down. Yeah, bitch. Whatcha’ gonna do now?

            Sam stares at me in horror. “Dean?”

            Jack, blood coating his mouth, abdomen bleeding, gapes at me, an angel blade in his hand. What the Hell happened to him? My gaze falls on another body crumpled on the floor in clothes I recognize as Gabriel’s.

            “You let my brother in,” Lucifer says, drawing my attention back to him.

            “Well, it turns out him and me got something in common. We both want to gut your ass.” I grin and Lucifer rushes forward to meet my foot as I kick him in the face and watch his ass go flying into a table. Damn, that felt good.

            Lucifer jumps to his feet and I whip out Michael’s—no—my archangel blade, twirling it like a kung-fu master. It’s time to shiv this bastard. I advance on the Devil and swing. He ducks my down-strike and backhands me, twisting my weapon-hand, making me drop the blade. It hits the floor with a metallic clatter and I growl, upper-cutting Lucifer. He sprawls onto the floor, then gets up again, he leaps at me, defying gravity and taking flight and… I do the same damn thing. Two can play that game.

            We crash into each other like linebackers, grabbing at each other and spinning higher in the air, growling and snarling. I catch Jack and Sam out of the corner of my eye, getting out of the way. Sam pushing Jack against a wall and going to Gabriel, pulling him by his shoulders to where Jack is.

            I punch Lucifer in the head and take a glancing blow from him, before I hit him again, and he kicks out, catching me in the gut. I’m propelled backward, stopping in place and hovering a few feet away from him. I roar and charge at him again, but he’s ready. Lucifer catches me, holding me in place, his grip too strong for me to break as he starts pounding on my face. Pain explodes across my senses. I have to—I have to make him let go. But he’s not giving me any openings.

            “Good try, Dean,” Lucifer talks as he pummels me. “I’ll give you that buddy. But I’m not just powerful. I am power. And I don’t need a blade to end you, pal.”

            “Dean!”

            Sammy’s voice before below. I dangle in Lucifer’s death grip, one eye swollen, but the other—I look down and see Sam holding my archangel blade. He flings it upward and I catch it in a free hand, just as Lucifer breathes his goodbye to me, and jam it in his gut.

            His eyes glow red, his body burns with reddish-orange flame instead of the white light that comes from other angels when they die. He howls as his body combusts and I fall to the ground, eyes burning at the overwhelming sight of the celestial fireball above me.

            My back hits the ground, and I roll onto my side, clenching my eyes shut, willing the burning to cool. I don’t want to lose my eyes, but if I have to, I’ll have done it killing the Devil. I open my eyes, vision fine, and get to my feet. Satan continues to howl overhead, the cries becoming unearthly screeches. I chance a look up again, seeing the eyes and mouth of Lucifer’s vessel hot with orange fire. Wings, orange and red, on fire like the rest of him, spread, flicker and vanish. One final flash of fire and makes me shield my eyes with my arm, and then there’s a heavy thud. I breath and my heartbeats twice, before I look to see Lucifer’s vessel, lifeless, on the floor of the church, black wings spread beneath him.

            “Is he…he’s—he’s dead,” Sam stutters. He stares at me. “Holy crap, you did it.”

            “No,” I say. Victory making me giddy. The power inside me and my complete and utter jubilation over killing the freakin’ Devil make me laugh. “We did it!” We killed Lucifer. He’s dead. He’s finally, finally dead. Not just locked away, or banished to some other world. He’s—an intense pain in my stomach doubles me over.

            What’s—what’s happening? Did I take a—my vision starts to flicker as I feel something pulling at me, from the inside. I can’t breathe, a force strangles the air from my lungs as it tries to—oh shit. Oh shit. I feel him. I hear his voice, his laughter as he pushes me out of the driver’s seat of my own body. There’s a room, a place for unwanted memories and feelings—the door’s open and he’s forcing me inside the dark place in my own head.

            “We—we had a deal,” I choke, fighting to use my voice—my voice, not his. My body not his. Push him out, I have to push him out. But I scramble to grab hand and footholds in my own awareness as my being is forced into the dark.

            Michael… I try, and gasp as I realize no sound leaves my throat. No sound. I can’t move my lips, or hands, or feet. I sit inside the dark room, peering out through a transparent door, seeing Sam and Jack gawking at me through wide, worried eyes.

            “Michael?” Sam asks.

            And I hear my own voice say. “Thanks for the suit.”


	17. Chapter 17

Author's Note: And now, we are finally, completely, AU. Thanks for reading!

* * *

 

Chapter 17

Sam

 

            It’s not only a miracle that I actually have my phone on me, but that it still works. I call Cass, not knowing if he’ll answer—if he can answer, hands shaking. Jack kneels in front of the first pew of the church, looking after Gabriel, who I’d laid over the seat. The archangel seems to be only asleep, but he won’t wake up when we shake him.

            “Sam!” Castiel’s voice is rough and panicked on the other line.

            “Cass! Oh, thank God. You okay?”

            “Yes, yes… Dean?”

            I’m quiet. I run a hand through my hair. What do I say?

            “Is Dean there?” Cass demands.

            “H-he… Lucifer’s dead.”

  
            “Dean killed Lucifer?” Cass’s voice is sharp. “And you and Jack are all right? Is Gabriel with you as well?”

            “Jack’s fine, Gabriel’s uh… I don’t know. I think he might be okay.”

            “And Dean?”

            He knows. He has to know.

            “Sam?” Cass raises his voice. “Is Dean all right?”

            “N-no,” I stammer. “No. He—uh—Michael has control, Cass. They left, Michael took Dean’s body and left.” My eyes sting. After all we’ve done—the fate the world wanted for Dean, to be Michael’s sword, the fate we told to go screw itself, happened anyway.

            Cass breathes. “Okay. So, we’ll get him back. Sam, do you hear me? We’ll get him back.”

            “Y-yeah,” I say, breathy and sick. “Sure.” I scratch my head. “Yeah. I-I came back after being Lucifer. Dean can come back after Michael. We’ll—we’ll fix it, like we fix everything else.”

            Confidence. I wish I had it. I wish my hands would stop shaking and my stomach would quit cramping. I gaze at Jack, who’s looking at me, so scared. I can’t fall apart in front of him. He needs me.

            Okay. Breathe.

            “Cass, we’re out in the middle of nowhere. Don’t think an Uber will come for us tonight. Do you think you can send somebody out to get us? We’re uh…” I check the GPS on my phone and give him the address. Hours away from the bunker, not as far as I feared, but much too far to walk or hitch-hike, not with Gabriel down.

            “I’ll come for you,” Castiel says quickly. “I’ll take a car and leave now.”

            “O-okay,” I breathe. “But drive safely. We won’t go anywhere.”

            “I’ll be right there, Sam.” Castiel sounds strange. The other line goes dead and I put my phone away.

            “Castiel’s coming to get us, Jack,” I say. “So, we’re just going to wait here. Um, how’s your wound? Were you able to heal it?”

            Jack nods. “It still hurts, but I closed it.”

            “Sounds like your grace is replenishing itself,” I say, my voice sounds calm, and I’m proud of it. I make my way to Jack and Gabriel, reaching down to touch the archangel’s forehead. He’s burning up, worse than in the bunker. But I don’t know how worried I should be. I don’t think he can actually die from an illness, but the pure fact that he’s sick and seems worse is scary. Maybe the rules change when an angel’s grace is low.

            I pat Gabriel’s cheek and give him a light shake. “Gabriel? Gabriel, come on. Wake up.”

  
            “What if—what if Lucifer did something to keep him asleep. Maybe only Lucifer can wake him up,” Jack says, sounding fearful. “That means he might not ever.”

  
            I blink. No, that can’t be right, because the universe can’t screw us over this many times in one day. It’s not fair. We’re owed something for past good deeds. “Gabe, come on, man.”

            I keep shaking and poking until he flinches, finally giving some sign of stirring.

            “That’s it.” Encouraged, I keep saying his name and patting his cheeks.

            His eyes flutter open.

            “There you are.” I breathe a sigh of relief.

            “What…happened?” His voice is a froggy whisper that makes him cough.

            I help him sit up, slowly, rubbing his back as the coughing doesn’t stop. “Hey, hey, breathe, nice and easy. Take small breaths, easy.”

            Gabriel clutches his chest, squeezing his eyes shut, face twisted in pain. “L-Lucifer?”

            I almost blurt out that he’s dead, but I don’t know how Gabriel will take the news. He’d seemed ready to end Lucifer earlier, but at the same time, he’d grieved him hard when he thought the bastard was dead before this.

            “He’s dead,” Jack utters. “For real. After trying to make me and Sam kill each other. He was…he was evil and only wanted to use me.” He looks at his hands, his expression and words so bleak I want to hug him.

            Gabriel nods slowly. “Should have known, huh? I fell for it too, didn’t I? I just—I wanted it, you know? I’m sorry, kid.”

  
            Jack rests his forehead on Gabriel’s thigh and Gabriel brings a hand down to stroke Jack’s hair.

            “How are you feeling?” I ask Gabriel.

            Bruised, gold-green eyes meet mine. “Human.”

            “Your powers?”

            “So low I can barely feel ‘em,” Gabriel says. “How did you kill Lucifer?” He peers out and goes still, noticing Lucifer’s vessel for the first time. I wonder if we should get rid of it or leave it here. I don’t care as much as I should about leaving messes behind right now, so I vote we leave it. We’ll see what Cass says when he gets here.

            “Sam?” Gabriel presses. “How did he die? I see a stab wound on the vessel.”

            “An archangel blade took him out.”

  
            “But what archangel?” Gabriel frowns. “I’m the—” His eyes go round. “Oh no. That other Michael. He came through too. He—he came through with Lucifer!”

            “And he took Dean,” I say. “Dean let Michael in to kill Lucifer, and now Michael has him.”

            Gabriel curses in tongues. Jack raises his head to frown at him. “What language is that?”

            “Hebrew,” Gabriel mutters. He looks at me. “Sam… I’m sorry. I’m sorry I couldn’t help.”

            “You tried,” I say.

            Gabriel snorts and coughs, clutching at his chest again. “Ow—okay, that really hurts.”

            “You sound pretty bad,” I say. “Do you think you need a doctor? Like, can anyone do anything for you aside from what we’ve been doing, because it’s not working.”

            Gabriel looks tired enough to pass out again. “This is a first for me, Sam.”

            “For us too.” I sigh and pull off my flannel, draping it over Gabriel’s shoulders. “I’m gonna explore the church. Maybe there’s someplace warmer and more comfortable for you. Jack will stay with you.”

            “No!” Jack practically yelps. He looks at Lucifer’s body. “Don’t leave me here.”

            “Somebody has to watch Gabriel.”

            “I can watch myself,” Gabriel mutters, coughing and swallowing with a moan. “Go on. I’ll just lay back down, because I’m getting really dizzy.”

            He sways and I grab his shoulders, easing him onto his back. He curls onto his side, trembling. “Gonna go back to sleep now.” His eyes close.

            “I don’t think we should leave him here either,” Jack says after a minute of both of us watching Gabriel sleep and shiver.

            “No,” I agree. And though I’m not a fan of being a pack mule, Gabriel’s a lot smaller than me. I motion for Jack to move back, as I plot out how I want to do this, and then shift Gabriel’s limp body up and over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes. “Let’s look for warmer ground.”  


* * *

 

~*~

            We find a parishioner’s office, equipped with a velvet-cushioned couch and a fireplace with logs stacked next to it. I lay Gabriel down and get a fire going. It becomes so warm in the room sweat beads my forehead. I do a double-take at seeing perspiration dot Jack’s brow too.

            “Jack? Is it hot in here to you?” I ask.

            Jack wipes at the sweat on his forehead. “Uh…I do feel strange—warm. Yes, I think I’m hot.”

            “It has to be because your grace is low,” I say. “But your stomach’s still healing?”

            Jack rolls up his blood-stained shirt, so I can see his wound. No longer bleeding or open, the skin knit back together, though ugly and pink—and the same as before. It doesn’t look to have healed any further since the last time I checked it. Wounds on Jack would have normally disappeared by now.

            “Okay, maybe we better try to clean that out,” I say. “I don’t want to risk infection. I don’t know how human you are right now.”

            Jack rolls his shirt back down and sits on the carpeted floor in front of Gabriel’s couch. “I’m human enough to feel really tired, but I don’t want to sleep, Sam. I think I’ll have more bad dreams.”

            I don’t have comforting words for him. All of us are going to have bad dreams for the rest of our lives. “I’ll wake you up, just like we do for Gabe, if you start having a nightmare, Jack. So, if you’re tired, you should sleep. Otherwise, all you’re going to be doing is sitting here staring at me staring at you.”

  
            Jack sighs and after a beat, curls up on the floor, folding his jacket under his head as a makeshift pillow. He doesn’t close his eyes though. “I’ll just lay here. If I fall asleep, I fall asleep, but if not…”

            “At least you’re resting and not moving around pulling at that wound. But roll onto your back. I’m going to look around some more and see if I can find anything to doctor it with. I’m… going to have to leave the room.”

            Jack tenses, but nods. “Fine.”

            “You’re okay?”

            “So long as we’re not still in the same room as Lucifer, I’m fine. I’ll look after Gabriel.”

            I nod, and scan this room for supplies first, before venturing out. I find bottled water, apples, and crackers in the kitchen, a moderately-stocked first aid kit in a staff restroom, and a bottle of half-drunk whiskey tucked in a planter in the receptionist’s office. I wipe the rim of the liquor bottle and take a light swig; the burn of the alcohol takes the edge off my fried nerves.

              I make my way back to the office I’d left Jack and Gabriel in, coming in to find them both asleep, Jack with his knees curled to his chest. I sit on the carpet beside him, not wanting to wake him up, and set out the supplies I found. I eat two of the four apples I’d brought back with me and sip some more of the whiskey. Dean would sip it—no, Dean would chug it. I take a deeper drink and cap the bottle.

            I can’t let myself get drunk, not right now. I lean my head back on the couch, eyes drifting open and closed as exhaustion fogs my brain. The fire pops and crackles, the perfect white noise for a nap—but no, I have to be alert, have to protect my friends. Have to think about what to do next, to plan.

            God, Dean.

            Where do we even start?

            My phone buzzes in my pocket and I pull it out to see a text message from Mom. She and Bobby are safe an hour out from the bunker. She wants to know if it’s okay to come back. I text that I don’t know. Cass is the only one who stayed at the bunker, and he’s probably left already to get us. I have no idea if the bunker is safe territory or not.

            Mom asks who’s with me and if we’re all okay.

            I stop answering her then. She knows I’m alive. That’s good enough, right?

            “Who’s texting you?” Jack mumbles, eyes closed, voice weary.

            “Mom.”

            “Did you—did you tell her about Dean?”

            “No.” Not yet. It’d be better to tell her in person. “Go back to sleep.”

            No reply. He breathes deeply, evenly, and I go ahead and deal with his wound, swabbing the area with alcohol and slathering it with antibiotic gel. I ignore his wrinkled nose and flinches, and cover the affected area with a bandage. There. Not good as new, but if Jack does end up with an infection, it won’t be due to my negligence as a caretaker.

            My phone buzzes. More texts from Mom that I ignore, then finally, a couple hours and four short naps later, comes Cass’s call to say that he’s in the church. I guide him to the parishioner’s office and hug him tight when he steps through the door. The angel looks rough, hair a mess, eyes bleary. He peers beyond me at Jack, frowning at the blood stain on the front of his shirt.

            “The wound is closing itself very slowly,” I say, “but I think it’ll be okay. The one I’m worried about is Gabriel. I think he’s got flu symptoms. I asked if maybe a doctor could help. I mean, he’s pretty human right now. Maybe our medicine can do something. I was going to give him some pain relievers before—before Lucifer came to the bunker.”

            Seems a lifetime ago.

            Castiel frowns. “I have no knowledge to offer, Sam. I don’t think it would hurt to try, so long as no one takes his blood.”

            I nod. “We’ll…” I run a hand through my hair, exhaustion making me stupid. “Should we take him to an emergency room now, or get back to the bunker and deal with it later? I don’t know, Cass. It’s your call. I don’t want to make any more decisions tonight.

  
            Cass looks at me. “I don’t either, aside from the decision to leave this place. It’s nearly three in the morning, and we don’t know how early operations start in this building. We need to clean up, wipe down any fingerprints left behind and leave. And the body…”

            “Lucifer’s vessel?” I ask. “I was… I didn’t want to touch it. But we can’t just leave it here, can we?”

            Castiel shakes his head. “We’ll have to dispose of it. If you want to rest some more, I’ll clean the service area where…” He swallows, looking at his hands. “I knew it wouldn’t end well. I knew Michael would take him, and I tried to stop him.”

  
            “Nothing would have stopped Dean.” I’m sure of that, not if he was trying to save me… and Jack. “And I don’t know that we could have won had Dean not used Michael’s strength.” Like when I let Lucifer in that time, so that I could throw myself into the cage with him. To save the world, to save Dean. It’s what we do.

            Castiel grips my shoulder and I pat his hand, before he moves back to the door. “I’ll be back when I’m done, and we’ll go.”

 

            The car ride is short with both Gabriel and Jack passed out in the backseat, Castiel driving and me staring aimlessly out the window at the lightening sky. Castiel stops to get gas once, otherwise, we travel without break. Mom and Bobby are home when we arrive, Mom staring at me with soulful blue eyes, as if she knows without me saying anything about Dean that he’s gone.

            I volunteer to put Gabriel to bed, ducking the task of telling Mom what happened. I feel like an asshole for leaving it to poor Cass, who’d been here when Dean had said ‘yes.’ I’m being a coward and a crap friend… but I can’t.

            I tuck Gabriel in, watching the archangel burrow under the blankets, trembling like a scared rabbit. His nightmares are moans and whimpers, I hope he’s too weak to lash out and disintegrate matter. I press a hand to his forehead again, hotter than in the church, bleaker than where he’d started. Had we done him any good?

            No.

            We doom everything we touch it seems, especially ourselves. We’re not Team Free Will, or Team Save the World. We’re Team Sacrifice or Team Sucks to Be You.

            Gabriel moans, mumbling under his breath—Hebrew, Enochian, Pig Latin, who knows, who cares. At least he can sleep in a way that I won’t for a long time.

            I rub at my dry eyes. It’s time to crack some books, work some spells, call in some favors. No time to rest, no time to waste. Gotta find Dean. We’ll figure out what to do when we find him after the fact. One step at a time. A good motto for Team Sacrifice.

            Hope there’s fresh coffee in the grinder, but I bet there’s not because it really sucks to be a Winchester.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Gabriel

 

_Sometimes, I play what I feel._

_The_ chalil _or flute is a lovely instrument. I picked it up from vendor cart in Greece during some festival. There are so many, they, and the wine, run together. My tolerance for alcohol is high, but I usually leave Cye in charge when it comes to mingling and parties and dancing in the streets. He loves it, and so, I live through him. I let him travel with my wings and give directions, letting his human thrill of swift movement and gliding through the air fill me._

_I don’t understand why Lucifer hates humans so much, and how Michael can be so indifferent to them. I think they’re the most wonderful things Father has created since those awful lizards—terrible bores they were to watch. Roar, roar, snack, snack. Humans weren’t that interesting at first either, but they grew and evolved, becoming more like—like us. And they build things and care for each other and create tools and foods and colors for entertainment and pleasure purposes. It’s exciting and novel and I love being a part of it, even though sometimes I really want to just watch—but not from up high, from right there on Earth, through eyes that see like a human’s. I like having tongues that taste and skins that feel._

_Cye sits back, resting, as I use his body now, to navigate Heaven and offer him tours of the gardens and the high house of the archangels. My tower is the tallest. I sit perched in my window overlooking the Southern gardens, composing a song about how the sun breaks through the clouds overhead and how the flowers tilt to catch the warming rays. How the sun shines and life goes on, an unending cycle, despite what’s happening._

_The fighting won’t stop. They’re not even trying anymore... but those flowers out there, the stars, the moon and other planets, they don’t know that. The humans the battles wage over don’t even know. Whether they live or die might will be decided by beings they don’t all believe in. They won’t know when or how, or even that they’re waiting for a verdict._

_And my life will probably go on, also an unending cycle._

_“It’s beautiful.”_

_I jump, almost dropping the bone-flute. I stare at Raphael standing in the doorway to my tower room. He’s still in a vessel, a full-figured woman with dark brown skin and charcoal black hair._

_“Brother,” I say._

_“Well met,” Raphael says. “Welcome back, but for how long will you remain this time?” There’s no coldness or bite in his voice. Raphael is always fair and open to trying to understand._

_“I’m not sure,” I say, sliding from stone window sill and coming to embrace him. “Well met.” I admire his vessel. “Your line is expanding.”_

_“Mm,” Raphael says, “this is Salome, daughter of Mara, no relation to the royals. I’ve introduced you to her as the archangel Gabriel and she is honored to be in your presence.”  
            I laugh, poking Cye who is napping. My grace may fuel his vessel, but it doesn’t feed his separate human need for rest and recovery time, which is why he will eventually die when it’s his time. Cye stirs, grumbling insults, before apologizing and gaping through my eyes at the beautiful woman in front of us._

_/Cye, meet my brother, the archangel Raphael./_

_ <Tell him: Very well met and what a beauty he resides in! All you lords surely choose well, when you select hosts.>_

_/Aren’t you the proud one?/_

_“Cye says very well met, indeed, brother,” I say to Raphael._

_“What were you playing just now?” he asks._

_I hold up the flute. “Just something I stumbled across. I have others too, if you’d like to see…”_

_“No,” Raphael says. “I’ve seen flutes. I meant your song. Did you compose it?”_

_“Oh.” I glance at polished white flute in my hand. “Yes, I was just letting the music come, though. I have no idea where the song will end or if I’ll even pick it back up to finish.”  
            “It was so sad,” Raphael says. “It sounded like you were mourning something you love.”_

_I frown at him. He reads too deeply. I go back to the window, sitting, but still facing him. “You can close the door if the sound is affecting you. I certainly don’t want this to be another horn.”_

_Raphael rolls his eyes. “This is definitely not that. I…” He sighs and comes to sit at my feet on the floor, leaning back against the wall. “Would you mind playing again, so that I can listen?”_

_I bring the flute to my lips, but frown more deeply. “You’ve nothing better to do? Where are your writing tools and scrolls and books?”_

_“I have no desire to write or read,” Raphael whispers._

_At that, I almost drop the flute again. “What?” I slip off the sill, sliding down to sit next to Raphael and stare at him. “What’s the matter?” A Raphael who doesn’t want to read? I’m terrified._

_Large, almond-shaped brown eyes water and he reaches into the folds of his vessel’s long -sleeved dress. He extracts…_

_“Where did you get that?” I gasp._

_It’s a blade, long and silver, as ugly and deadly as it is beautiful in the right light. Only Michael and Lucifer carry these. Did one of them drop theirs? Maybe Lucifer left his behind when he… I shake my head, “Raphael?”_

_“Father gave it to me,” Raphael says slowly. “He says I’ll have to learn to use it. He means for me to help Michael fight Lucifer—maybe kill him.”_

_My world goes dark for a moment._

_I feel Cye poking me, trying to get me to focus. I barely breathe. “Father said that when he gave that to you?”_

_Raphael nods. “He says Michael may need help.”_

_“But you…” We—we don’t fight. We’re not the warriors._

_“Things are changing, Gabriel,” Raphael says softly. “And not for the better, and so I won’t record these days unless asked. And I can’t bring myself to read, because I can’t stop thinking about what’s to come. But your song, it matches how I feel. I don’t know how to talk about it. Salome tries to help, she’s much better at…”_

_“Feeling?” I ask. “Yes, the human spirit is remarkable. Their endurance and capacity for comprehension. Why, emotional literacy could be a philosophy taught in collegiums.”_

_“And it breaks my heart to learn that Lucifer corrupted some, dragged some of their souls to that place he created, with those things.”_

_I shudder. “What happened to our brother, Raphael?”_

_“Father blames the Mark, but even before it…”_

_I lick my lips and Cye nudges me. <Play for him, Gabriel. He needs music.>_

_And so, right where I am, shoulder against Raphael’s, I put the mouthpiece near my lips and play my flute._

_“Gabriel.”_

_I pause in sharing the East Garden with Cye—Father’s favorite garden. Of course He’d be here. I turn, not expecting to see Him in His human form, a vessel He’d created for Himself, copper-dark skin and black hair like wool. His deep brown eyes are grave as He reaches out to take my shoulders._

_“I’m glad you’ve returned,” He says, and I see a glimmer in His eyes, the one that only appears when I enter a room. I’ve never seen it bloom for Michael or Raphael, or even Lucifer._

_“Hello, Father,” I say. “I’m showing Cye the gardens. Cye is overwhelmed to be in Your magnanimous Presence. His words, not mine.”_

_Father chuckles. “Of course they are, you’ve never embellished a day in your life. You both look well. I trust you enjoyed yourself on your latest sojourn?”_

_“Yes, Father,” I say. “I’ve brought home gifts. No horns, I promise.”_

_“You may bring and play as many horns and loud instruments as you like,” Father says firmly. “This is your home, Gabriel. And we all do wish that you were here more.”_

_I don’t feel guilty for being away. They all know I can’t stand when they argue, when they scream about hating each other and blame each other for things all of us are responsible for. And mostly, mostly, it’s Lucifer. He wants everything to be his way. He can’t be wrong. He asks too much from Father. And what he calls for is wrong. Father created humanity and they’ve done nothing to justify the genocide Lucifer demands. The first time Father cleansed the Earth had been because of Lucifer’s misdeeds. Father punished him, but Lucifer’s done it again. He claims it’s to show how nasty and vile humans can be, how weak-hearted and prone to treachery._

_It had the opposite effect. And after that last argument with all of us here, Lucifer left. Heaven was—it took a lot of cleaning up, and I didn’t stay long after. Not with what Father and Michael have been whispering._

_“I hate that look in your eyes,” Father says. “I know you don’t like what’s happening.”  
            I say nothing._

_“No one does. I wish I could make your brother see what’s right,” Father says. “But I have to admit that I cannot, and he can’t be allowed to continue as he is.”_

_I want to cover my ears and disappear, but even I wouldn’t turn my back on Father while He’s speaking._

_“Gabriel,” Father says, hand on my shoulder. “Lucifer is creating an army of creatures. They’re infesting humans, making them kill others. He won’t stop until he feels they’re strong enough to bring to Heaven to challenge us. He means to destroy the Earth and I need my sons to stand with me.”_

_  
My eyes widen and I take a step back, as Father produces a blade, silver and shiny, as deadly as it is beautiful and ugly, from his sleeve._

_“This is your archangel blade,” Father says. “Now each of you has one. And, as you know, this is the only thing, aside from me, that can end your immortal lives. This weapon must remain with you, a part of you, at all times, and you must only use it for the sake of what you feel is right.”_

_“Or never,” I mutter. Father holds the weapon out to me, eyes commanding me to take it. I hesitate._

_“Take it, Gabriel,” Father says._

_I take the blade, feeling its perfectly balanced weight in my hand. I swallow hard. “I don’t—I don’t know how to use it.”_

_  
“Michael is waiting to teach you. It won’t take you long to master it,” Father says. “Though I never intended for you, or Raphael, to fight, you can. It’s innate, so once you begin to work with your blade, it will feel natural to you.”_

_  
“I don’t want it to feel natural,” I breathe._

_“I know,” Father says, “and this is not what I want for you, but it is what I need. Gabriel, you must join this fight. And if it comes down to it, you will help us kill Lucifer.”_

_I take another step back._

_“Gabriel, Michael waits for you in the Western Garden. Go now.”  
            No. But I never say ‘no’ to God. Not really, and I’ve never openly disobeyed a direct order. I shake as I turn, holding the blade at my side._

_Father doesn’t speak again, but I know He’s watching me._

_ <Gabriel, you’ve got to get out of this place! We have to leave!>_

_/I know, Cye. We’ll get out of here./_

_Because I don’t want to have to openly defy God. And I don’t want any part of killing my brother._

 

* * *

~*~

 

            Cold. It’s so c-c-c-cold. My teeth chatter so hard my brain rattles and my body’s being pulled apart on a torture wheel. The light burns my eyes. I’m in Hell with Asmodeus. I never left Hell. I had dreamed I was free. Wetness trickles down my cheek as I sob and gasp at how hard it is to breathe.

            “Gabriel, are you awake?” A familiar voice asks. A face appears in the burning light—long hair, blue eyes… Winchester… Sam. “Hey, you are. Hey, hey, stay awake for me, just for a little bit. I need you to drink some water.”

            I hear something moving, liquid pouring. The room shifts and my body screams as its moved. I gasp and choke on my own breath, the coughing feels like nails being hammered through my ribcage. Something—a large hand—rubs my back, and soft squares—pillows—are propped behind my back. Glass touches my lips and water trickles over my tongue. It burns and scratches when it touches my throat, making me cough more. I turn my face away. No more water.

            “Gabe, you need to drink something,” Sam says. “Can you try a little more?”

            “H-h-hurts,” I croak. An artic breeze rattles through my bones. I moan, shaking. “S-s-o c-c-c-cold…”

            “Trust me, you’re not cold,” Sam says. “That’s the fever. You’re burning up and we have to bring your temperature down. That’s why you have to drink some more water for me. And then I’ve got some aspirin for you. We want to try it out and see if it does anything.”

            His words—I hear them but I don’t understand. Why can’t he stop it from being cold?

            “Gabriel, hey, hey, please stay awake. We need to try some more water…Gabe… I’m losing him again.”

  
            Sam Winchester goes away along with the burning light, but it stays cold.

            So cold.

 

* * *

 

~*~

_“_ This _is a new hiding place. I almost had trouble finding you.”_

_That voice._

_My legs dangle over the ledge of the cliff overlooking Father’s sea. The term Heaven on Earth should really be Earth on Heaven. Father tests it below then brings it here if He likes it. Here, He removes any flaws, because in Heaven there can only be perfection. Which makes it boring. I like when the blue water turns green and gray from sand mixing with it when it nears the shores. I like to see the bird poop—I’m weird, yes, but imperfections make you notice the best parts, make you wait for them—like sea swells, building in height and strength as they race for the shore. I love the splash when they hit the rocks and the foam that brims._

_“I’m sure Father approves of you just sitting around.” I don’t look at Lucifer as he sits beside me. The legs of his human vessel are mottled with sores and lesions, another decaying shell for my brother. He won’t associate with the bloodline families Father created for him. He’s angry that he has to share them with Michael, and, by now, Michael’s probably warned them all not to take Lucifer’s calls. He refers to Lucifer as ‘the serpent’ on his rare visits to his host families—Cye’s mother, Allysiah, is quite the gossip. I loved my times with her. We brought her baubles and headscarves from Cairo on our last visit to Cye’s homeland._

_“Nice new skin.” Lucifer’s strategy has always been to talk at someone until they can’t help but snap back at him. The only being this does not work on is Michael. “That host family of yours has truly multiplied. I wonder if you might speak well of me to one of them. I’d love a body that doesn’t melt after a few days. It gets annoying having to change so often.”_

_I glare at him, furious and protective. “You will_ not _approach any member of my line. If I_ _find out you were anywhere_ near _any one of them, I swear I’ll—”_

_“There you are!” Lucifer cheers, smiling through rotting teeth. A truly hideous form, though I doubt it was ugly when he took it. He’d never steal an ugly human’s shell. And the poor soul inside is ruined. That much I can see. He won’t have much of a life if Lucifer chooses to leave him before he completely burns out._

_“Why are you here?” I ask, turning my attention back to the crashing waves below._

_“Where are your manners?” Lucifer asks. “I’m obviously here to see you, and now the least you can do is greet your big brother with a little respect.”_

__  
“You don’t deserve it,” I say. “And if the others find you here…”  


_“They’ll try to kill me?” Lucifer asks. “Good luck trying.” He’s quiet for a moment, then he nudges me. “I was thinking, you know, in all of this, you never spoke out against me or took sides. I know you hate all this fighting, and you’d rather it all be over. Believe me, so do I. And I have a way to end this, but I need you.”_

_“You don’t need me,” I say. “You have your demons. The ones down there making humans kill each other.”_

_“Only the bad humans.”_

_“You think all of them are bad.”_

_“You are very astute, little brother. None of us give you enough credit for that,” Lucifer says. “There are too many humans. I’m just reducing the population. It’s natural order. The ones left will be the ones worth having around.”_

_I sigh and turn to him, lip curling at his disgusting form. “What do you want from me?”_

_“I want you to come with me,” Lucifer says._

_“With you where?”_

_Lucifer groans. “Where? To my base of operations! Look, with you on my side, Father and Michael will have to back down.”_

_“You mean Father, Michael and Raphael.”_

_“Raphael doesn’t fight,” Lucifer snorts. “And I’d ask him to join me too, but he thinks I’m annoying. Can you believe that?”_

_“Raphael’s got a blade now,” I say, ignoring his attempt to make jokes._

_Lucifer blinks, his ruined face losing its smug expression. “Father?”_

_I nod._

_“And he’s going to fight me, really?” Lucifer has the nerve to look hurt. His shuts his eyes. “And you? Do you…?”_

_I nod._

_“So, you’ve finally taken a side,” Lucifer says._

_“Who said that?”_

_“You haven’t?” Lucifer touches my arm with his rough, scab-covered hand. I feel Cye flinch inside me from the skin contact. “So, you—would you come with me? Bring your blade to my side?”_

_“Go with you, to be with your demons that pollute the Earth?” I pull my arm out of his grip and stand up, making myself taller than him._

_“You_ sound _like you’re picking sides,” Lucifer says coolly. “You wouldn’t have to ever see a demon. I’d keep them…”_

_  
“You’d keep them hidden, but I know what they do,” I say._

_“That’s it then? The whole family is against me?”_

_“And you’re the victim, right?” I say. “Always the persecuted one, though you’re Father’s favorite. If you repent, this will all end!”_

_“Repent for what?” Lucifer demands. “Why do I have to be wrong?” He gets to his feet, his corpse of a vessel wavering. “The world was better when it was just us! If something is to be added, we should all be consulted. We can start over together…”_

_“This is Father’s world. Everything belongs to Him, even you. He makes the decisions. We obey, but is obeying Him so bad?”_

_“Not if you’re his darling baby,” Lucifer says. “He doesn’t ask you to do things you don’t want. If you would disagree, speak on my behalf, He might listen.”_

_  
“No.” I shake my head. “You’re wrong on that. To speak on your behalf, would show my instability. Lucifer, you’ve gone mad, and I don’t know how to help you.”_

_“Help me by standing with me, even if you don’t agree. Just having you at my side will make the others hesitate, think, want to compromise.”_

_“Compromise.” Lucifer’s compromise is another cleansing, only he’d kindly let Father do it._

_“Look, it was hard to get in here without being noticed, so I can’t stay long. Let me show you my way. You’re open-minded in a way no one here will ever be. If you join me…”_

_“You speak of impossibilities, Lucifer.” Michael’s voice._

_I step back, aligning my heels with the edge of the cliff, watching Michael march up to Lucifer, Raphael following. Raphael, still in Salome’s form, keeps his head down. Cye reacts to seeing her, and whispers <Will he let her go, if he has to go into battle?>_

_/I hope so. Know that I’ll take you home./_

_ <You can take me home to visit, and then we’ll go away. We’ve got more to see and do together, my friend.>_

_“Michael, Raphael, good to see you. And my, aren’t you looking lovely, little brother,” Lucifer says, winking at Raphael who glares._

_“You are no longer welcome here, Lucifer,” Michael says, voice glacial. His human vessel towers over Lucifer’s, all rippling muscles and long hair—Father made Michael and Lucifer’s bloodlines larger than life._

_“Only Father can tell me that.”_

_“I have no problem summoning Him here so that He can make the decree.”_

_“If you really believed you were welcome, you wouldn’t have snuck in,” Raphael says. He meets my gaze. “Are you all right, Gabriel?”_

_“He’s fine!” Lucifer snaps. “I have nothing to gain from harming him.”_

_  
“Not even if he chooses not to go with you?” Michael asks. “Why bring out your blade?”_

_I gasp, gaping at Lucifer. He turns to me, blade in hand. When had he pulled_ _that out? “You—”_

_“No,” Lucifer holds out a hand to me in a placating manner. “Not for you.”_

_“For one of us then?” Raphael asks._

_“Don’t do this,” Lucifer says. “I’ll put it away, if we can talk.”_

_“Go back to Hell with your demons,” Michael says. “You are not welcome here, and you are not to talk to any more of our brethren.”_

_“You can’t tell me who I can talk to. And you can’t tell Gabriel what to do. We were having a discussion.” Lucifer looks at me._

_Raphael and Michael look at me too._

_“Were you considering Lucifer’s immoral offer, little brother?” Michael asks, dark eyes fixed on me._

_Raphael looks worried. “Now would be the time to renounce Lucifer, Gabriel. Go on and do it. It’s what Father wants.”_

_“He can’t renounce me,” Lucifer says. “He’s not like either of you. He likes to do his own thing too. It’s only a matter of time before he’s where I’m standing with the two of you against him.”_

_“Gabriel would never make choices that endanger Heaven and Creation,” Michael says. “Gabriel, renounce Lucifer.”_

_Lucifer’s sunken eyes flash red and we all start, even Michael. Red eyes. His energy had been golden, like Michael’s. “I won’t forgive your rudeness, brother.”_

_“Good, because I also won’t forgive yours,” Michael says, drawing his blade. “Now, go. And when we meet again, it will be in battle.”_

_Lucifer gives me a parting look, before he vanishes in a flurry of black wings._

_I continue to stare at the place he’d been until Michael grabs me by the folds of my tunic. “What were you thinking letting him so close to you? Why didn’t you call?”_

_“He wasn’t going to hurt me,” I say. “Let go.”_

_Michael grips my shirt tighter. “He is a deceiver. You cannot believe anything he says anymore. He is corrupt.”_

_I nod, because I know, but… “He’s still our brother,” I whisper._

_“Not any brother of mine,” Michael says. “Were you considering his offer?” He narrows his eyes._

_“No.”_

_“Then why didn’t you renounce him?” Michael asks._

_“Because…”_

_“You should have renounced him,” Raphael says gently. “To let him know that you stand with us. Maybe he’ll…”_

_“He will not retreat or surrender for any reason,” Michael says. “He must be stopped by force.”_

_“You’d really kill him?” I ask._

_“If it comes to that,” Michael says. “If Father asks me to.”_

_“How can you say that?” I ask, disbelief coloring my tone._

_“How can you question it?” Michael tilts his head, studying me. “Do you care that little about our home, our family, our mission and duty to Father?”_

_“Don’t question how much I care,” I growl._

_“Then show it,” Michael says swiftly. “Renounce Lucifer, say you’ll help me kill him, if Father commands it. Swear your love and loyalty.”_

_“I shouldn’t have to swear it.”  
            _

_“If you showed it more, you wouldn’t have to. Now, Gabriel. Renounce him, say you’ll_ _kill him.” Michael’s eyes smolder, the brown burning gold._

_Raphael looks imploring. “Please, Gabriel. Just say it.”_

_“Did you?”_

_He nods. “And now it’s your turn.”_

_“Say you’ll kill him,” Michael repeats.  
_

_Say it, swear it, kill him, show it…_

_Too many commands, and none of them right for me. I can’t kill my brother. I can’t_ _swear I’ll do it and if that means I’m not loyal…_

_ <Let us fly, Lord Gabriel. Take us away.>_

_Yes._

_I spread my arms, ignoring my brothers’ frowning faces and let myself fall backward toward the waves, before spreading wings to fly away._

* * *

 

_~*~_

Ice burns my flesh and I scream, fighting to get away from it.

            “Hold him!”

            “He’s stronger than a mad bull!”

            “Cass!”

            “I’ve got him.”

            I cry out as multiple human hands hold me trapped in a prison made of freezing water. My eyes flutter open, and there’s a sea of faces around me, revolving, converging, then separating: Sam Winchester, Bobby Singer, Castiel. They’re wet, shirts soaked. They pant, straining to keep me in a clawfoot bath tub. 

            “W-w-whaa you doin?” I slur.

            “You’re awake?” Sam sounds excited. “How do you feel?”

            “C-c-col…”

            “We’re trying to bring down your fever,” Bobby says.

            Trying to… “T-t-too c-c-c…”

            “You’ll be okay, dude. Just a little longer,” Sam says. “Cass?”

            “His body temperature is still too high.”

            “Let’s add more ice,” Sam says.

            Ice? I struggle and feel their hands tighten.

            “Whoa. Calm down… we have to bring down the fever. We don’t know what will happen to you, if we don’t. You keep passing out.”

            What will happen to me? They don’t know. I don’t know.

            “You’re frightening him, Sam,” Castiel says. “His pulse is elevating.”

            “It’s okay. You’re gonna be okay. We’re taking care of you. Do you understand? We’re—Cass, he’s…”

            A strange buzzing starts in my ears, spreading through my head and body. It plays a single note that drowns out the sound of Sam’s voice. The bathroom around me grays and dims. My muscles are slack, raw, gone, as my eyes slip shut.

            The water gets icier. I can’t escape it.

            Don’t know what’ll happen to me. Don’t know.

 

* * *

 

~*~

 

            _I take him to see his family for the last time before our final destination—Heaven. His people, my line, have spread, his brothers and sister marrying, traveling to other villages and countries and having children who marry and do the same. There are so many of them now, all so beautiful and all excited to meet their eternally young brother, uncle, cousin who walks with the angel Gabriel. The family still prays and remains faithful, and untried by the Devil. In that, Lucifer has been honorable. The family waits, expecting each visit over the years to be the one where Cye’s journey with me ends, and I select a new vessel. They come with prayers to be chosen next._

_But I will not choose again. Cye wants me to keep his body after he is gone. He’s agreed to be my human face, my eternal form. Father said it was possible, if we found a face and body we prefer, to shape all others after it, or to retain a body after the soul attached has passed on into Heaven. It will be lonely without Cye—my friend with whom I’ve traveled the world dozens of times over, meeting new peoples and cultures, learning new foods and forms of entertainment—so many dances, so much music and art. Father’s Creation is a messy, marvelous masterpiece of life that I won’t quit exploring._

_I pass through Heaven’s Gates unannounced. I always take the back way in, not wanting to make my presence known. Father, Michael and Raphael will sense me soon enough, but not before I fulfill my duty to Cye. I escort him to his personal Heaven. It’s loud and colorful, full of people and parties. Countries and cities run together. He can cross oceans in footsteps. He stands apart from me, in a version of his human body, as young and beautiful as the day I first joined him. A perfect replica appears beside him, and winks—at me._

_“My Heaven is to travel forever with my dear friend,” Cye says. The replica grins and I recognize something in him—in me. “You’ll forever be with me. I wish it could be the same for you.”_

_I blink away sadness. When I step out of this place, I’ll be without Cye’s counsel and laughter. Cye holds out his arms to me and we hug, fiercely. I don’t want to let go, but I can’t remain. Even personal Heavens have rules._

_“You continue to find new parties to join, new lives to lead, faces to know,” Cye says. “Make more friends, find love!” And he whispers in my ear, “Keep your freedom. Leave this place for good. Don’t make me worry about you while I’m in paradise. It’ll ruin my afterlife.”_

_“And we can’t have that,” I say with a chuckle. “Cye of Lebanon, son of my beloveds, I promise you that I will live my life the way that I want. I will not be forced into my family’s war and will not return to this place until it’s all over.”_

_“Good,” Cye said, clapping a hand on my back. “I needed to hear that.”_

_“I did too,” I say. We stand, smiling at each other, until the replica, Heaven’s version of me, calls for Cye to join him on an adventure. My heart pangs as Cye laughs and says he’ll be right there. He gives me one last look, before kissing my cheek the way brothers do in some cultures._

_“Goodbye, my brother,” he whispers._

_And I watch him join the Other Me. They enter a throng of people flooding a busy market place in a city that resembles Rome. Music plays, people chatter, and Cye disappears—forever out of my reach._

_Mission complete. Promise fulfilled._

_I close my eyes, feeling myself dropping out of Cye’s new world, until my feet are firmly planted in the Southern garden. I see my tower from here, and there is something I need to retrieve before I go. My wings take me up and through the open window, and it doesn’t take me long to find the archangel blade. Father told me to keep it with me at all times, and I’d disobeyed by leaving it here. After 70 years, the silver still gleams. It lays on red and gold pillows piled on a couch I styled after ones I loved in Rome. I take up the blade, marveling at its exquisite balance again._

_I should leave it here. I’m not fit to carry it. I’ll never use it. It’ll be yet another thing that Father made for me that I put aside. But it’s also the last thing Father made for me, and I may not be back._

_Or rather, I’ll only be back after someone’s dead. The fighting will only end with Lucifer’s death and who knows how many will die for that to come about. Or, it will end with Lucifer winning, and the only way that can happen is if he kills… I tuck the blade in my belt and strengthen my resolve._

_I won’t be back._

_And when I get to Earth, I’ll have to hide. I can call in some favors. There’s Loki. I met him a while back, and he owes me a favor or six, and we get on well. There’s also Titania and Oberon, and Anubis isn’t so bad. I’ll mingle with the powers-that-be below._

_I leave my rooms, sensing for Raphael. If he’s near, I do want to say goodbye. Cye and I encountered him maybe 30 years ago in Istanbul, wearing an older, male vessel. I asked him to join us in exile, and he declined, saying he could never shirk responsibility the way I do. He won’t welcome my greeting or my farewell. I should just…_

_I halt, staring._

_At the end of the hallway stands Father in his human form. He doesn’t come closer as he gazes at me, eyes drinking me in. No smile, no glimmer of fondness, but also no reproach._

_I open my mouth, but find I can’t produce speech. I’ve nothing to say that will matter. He has to know that I’m leaving. I wait for him to stop me, to bind me, to scold me about my disobedience. I’ve seen him strike Lucifer. I wait for it._

_Nothing. No words, no movement, but slowly, the glimmer—my glimmer—burns in his eyes. Then, he turns and walks the opposite way, as if he’d come this way—a way that only leads to my tower—for nothing._

_I know he sensed me, but had he come to welcome me and knew when he saw me that I don’t plan to stay. Is this him letting me go with his blessing?_

_Father’s visage is gone, and I’m alone. I touch the blade in my belt, staring at where Father had been, and whisper, “Goodbye.”_

_Leaving Heaven is easy. I only have to think of falling._

 

 


	19. Chapter 19

Author's Note: This is the final chapter of _Until You Fall_. This is a three-part series. The next story is: _Until You Fight_.

* * *

 

Chapter 19   
Gabriel

 

            “Gabriel? Gabriel, can you hear me? His eyes are opening, I think. Gabriel?”

            I can’t place the voice. A woman’s, but unfamiliar.

            “Gabe? Are you awake?” Sam Winchester.

            “He’s too out of it.” Castiel.

            “I don’t want him to freak out,” Sam whispers. “Gabe, come on, wake up a little. His eyes are definitely opening. Hey…” fingers pat my cheek.

            I let my lids part, and blurry faces slowly come into focus: Sam, Castiel…a woman with medium brown skin and short, curly black hair. What do they want?

            “There you are,” Sam says, he looks ragged and stubbly—like a bum—but relieved. “How are you feeling?”

            I blink. He’s talking. But I don’t know what he’s saying. Words tumble out, but the meanings of them don’t translate.

            “I don’t think he understands us,” Castiel says, leaning in, his face too close to mine, but I can’t move to fix the distance.

            “Gabriel, you’re very sick,” Sam says. “Mia is a doctor—a therapist really, but she’s got training. She can set up an IV to give you medicine. We want to try it since you can’t swallow anything.”

            Sam, the woman, and Castiel bob around me, talking and frowning and touching my face. My eyes drift closed until I feel it. The sharp prick of a needle in my flesh. A howl builds in my sore chest.

            “Oh shit!”

            A wall of blue fire surrounds me, creating a barrier between me, the needle, and those people—the ones who’d tried to hurt me. The flames crackle, but there’s no heat. Celestial fire burns cold. Won’t hurt anything that doesn’t try to pass through it. Nothing can touch me now.

            “Gabriel! You have to put the fire out. We can’t help you, if you won’t let us in.”

            More words that make no sense.

            The woman holds the needle attached to a tube. She looks up at Sam and Castiel who whisper to her and gaze at me. What do they want from me?

            My eyes sting, wetness trickles across my cheeks.

            “Gabriel, please. Please let us back in, so we can take care of you.”

            They talk. My head swims and the room darkens, the fire turning gray. The only thing that remains the same color is the needle, still sharp and silver, like my blade, the one thing that can kill me.

            Sharp and silver.

            The needle he used.

            But he can’t hurt me here.

            He can’t…

 

* * *

 

~*~

 

            _Demon blood is fire in my veins. It scorches its way through my limbs and up into my heart, where the organ struggles to cleanse it from my blood, before pumping it out again. My body’s circulating poison. And just before, my grace can completely eradicate, he sticks me—filling me with more toxin, and then stealing my grace._

_He’s…_

_I wail, pain and hurt and something deeper, something I don’t even understand tears me apart inside at the violation. He’s ripping Father’s Blessing out of me and I can’t stop him. Every bit he drains, he’s taking Father away from me. I’m falling farther and farther from the Light. The Light that gives me the life I knew._

_This life is darkness, it’s ugly and full of cold and hate. There’s no love, only cruelty and a desire for violence and destruction. I hear them, the souls stolen from Heaven. They scream as they’re tortured, but the screams are reflexive. They’re not cries for help, because there is no hope help will come for them. Demons have damned them, tricked them, tainted and lured them here. They are lost—and I can’t help them, can’t stop hearing them._

_I clutch at my ears, but they’re in my head, pulling at my heart. This part of Father’s Blessing I wish the demon would take, but he won’t. He likes that I suffer. He wants me to hear the souls of the damned, day and night, night and day. I don’t know what time it is. When I first came here, it was night—when I first came… When was that?_

_I don’t know._

_Dark and cold and full of hate. Screams of pain. Wails of sorrow—is that my voice. I can’t make words anymore. My mouth—can’t open it. He said I talked too much. Said too many things he didn’t like. I used to—there’s no light, no laughter, no joy._

_I was made for light, and laughter and joy. I was made for light, and laughter—God wanted light… Father, please. Please. Please. Please._

_But He won’t come for me._

_He doesn’t care._

_I left Him. And now He doesn’t care._

_No one does._

_No one who might even knows to look for me. But who might? Who do I have?_

_Can’t even pray._

_Haven’t prayed in—can’t remember._

_Father, please. I’m sorry. Please._

_But He’ll never come. Never._

_The damned scream, howl, cry, they plea heartlessly, because they know no one will listen. No one cares. No one will help. No help. No light. No hope. No joy. No laughter._

_No. No. No. It’s all ‘no’._

_“You making a new song for me, archangel?”_

_His voice. I quiver, putting my back to the corner of my cage. My cage, my corner, mine. If I push myself back far enough, he can’t reach far enough through the bars to touch me. If he’s only here to look, he won’t bother if I make it too hard._

_But I hear the jingle of keys. The turn of a lock._

_The door to the cage opens, and he croons, “You want to come out, little angel? Come on, come on outta there now. You gotta spread those wings, don’t cha? I imagine they get all cramped up in there.”_

_I pull my knees up to my chest and cower. He’ll go away if I don’t move. He’ll go away._

_A rough hand grabs my leg and jerks. I squeal as I flop onto my back, head scraping the floor as I’m dragged through the open cage door. The floor is cold and smooth. The golden-eyed demon—golden eyes—Lucifer’s eyes, Michael’s eyes—looms over me in a glossy white suit. Why does he wear white? Stupid. Looks stupid._

_"Spread them wings, angel. I wanna see ‘em.”_

_I… can’t summon them. Not enough energy. Can’t even change forms._

_"You ignoring me, boy? Trying to give me some sass? Didn’t I show you what happens when you sass me, boy?” Fire—fire—burns. Feel it in my eyes, my throat, my legs, my back—I moan. Stop. Stop. Stop._

_“If I don’t get no wing show, then I’m thinking maybe I’m hungry. Yeah, I’m hungry. Come here, boy.”_

_I roll onto my stomach, struggling to my hands and knees, crawling, but he grabs my ankle. The iron manacle he clamps in place drips with holy oil. The ragged fabric of my pants soaks through with the liquid. He’ll light it—he likes to light it, to smell the human flesh of my vessel burn before he puts it out._

_I’m stuck in place as he comes to my head, grabbing my hair and kneeling down until his face is in mine. He grins at me, showing me his golden eyes, before he licks my cheek. “Mmmm…” He holds me with one hand, using the other to remove a syringe from his pocket. The needle’s long, the vial attached fat and clear. “You know the drill, boy. It don’t hurt so much when you’re still.” He stabs the needle into my neck, drawing out my grace. I pant as glowing silver spools of it coil inside the vial, so beautiful—the only beautiful thing in this hole._

_And then I watch that beauty be plunged into a demon._

_He sighs in pleasure, as he lets my head fall to the floor. “Ah…yeah… that’s Grade A—the premium stuff. Better than that crap Lucifer fed us, I’ll tell you that. Tainted archangel ain’t as good as the pure thing. Mmmm… Makes me strong!” He laughs. “They called me the weakest Prince of Hell. Ain’t that no more, boy! Whooo! But I’m sorry, I can’t neglect you now. I can’t take without giving. That ain’t right.”_

_  
No…._

_He puts away the syringe he used to steal from me and pulls out another. He drives it into his own flesh, and the vial attached fills with black blood—poison, poison, poison. “You know you want some ‘uh’ this. It’s an experiment ya see. Angel blood, archangel blood, makes me a stronger demon. Whoo boy, I can do anything on that stuff. But what’s demon blood do for an angel? You gotta build up a tolerance for it boy, then we’ll see. Maybe you’ll get some black eyes, some hell fire to replace that angel stuff you used to try to burn me with.” He laughs. “You don’t try that no more, do ya?”_

_I howl and writhe as the needle goes in, the poison comes—burns and scorches my veins—raw—bleeding—my body seizes. Can’t. Can’t. Falling. Falling into a pit of blackness, hate, pain, cruelty, no hope. And the screams are louder—the damned, I can’t mute them, can’t make them stop, want them out of my head, but they won’t go._

_I clutch my head, my ears, claw at my face, claw at my body. Rip it out. Make it stop._

_And I hear laughter—his laughter—but it’s not joyous, not light, not what God made me for. Not what God made. Nothing here is what God made. So, he takes it from me—steals it. Violates. Rapes._

_The hopeless screams._

_The burning._

_Joyless laughter. Cruel laughter. Not from God. Nothing from God._

_And Father won’t save me._

_No one will save me._

_They won’t stop screaming._

_So, I join them._

 

* * *

~*~

 

            “Thank God he couldn’t keep that up.”

             Whispers.

            “The fever’s not going down.”

            “Can he die from this, Cass?”

  
            “I don’t know, Sam. This should be impossible, but it’s happening.”

            Something cold and wet rubs over my face and chest. I flinch away, but hands hold me.

            “It’s okay. You’re all right.”

            But it’s not okay.

            “D-don’t cry. I’m sorry it’s cold, but you’re too hot.” A sigh. “I don’t know what else to do.”

            More whispering. Can’t make out the words anymore. Don’t really care what they’re saying anyway. Want to sleep.

 

* * *

 

~*~

 

            _“Sure, I’ll help! You need to get away, I need to get away. You be me for a few millennia, and I’ll party under a new guise.”_

_Loki grins at me, and I study him, blue-eyed, with straight brown hair and pale skin. So different from my bloodline families. No one would ever look at that human form and associate it with me._

_“How do we do it?”_

_“To be me, you can’t just do your shape-shifting thing. It’s got to be more permanent. I call it… face transplanting. It’s going to be a big thing in the future, but let’s pioneer it now! See, I’m going to make a mold of my face out of hind-skin.”_

_I watch him craft. Loki is an amazing character. He’s full of energy and quirks. His movements are brisk, his laughter sharp and quick. He sits at a table, working with a large square of skinned animal hide. The material glows faintly, a magical beast created by a pagan god. Loki uses sharp tools to cut, wooden mallets to smooth, and his fingers to sculpt a perfect replica of his own face, sans eyes._

_“I use these masks quiet often. It’s not a good trick when a little magic can make your form melt away. With this, nothing can force you out of character unless you want to come out of it.” He holds up the mask—his face and extends it to me. “Try it on for size.”_

_The skin mask is warm and pliant. It slides over my face, melding to my own skin, shaping it to fit its contours. There’s a moment of discomfort, tightness, and then it’s gone. “How do I look?” I clap a hand over my mouth. My voice—it’s not mine, it’s…_

_“Like the handsomest son of Odin,” Loki says. “It’ll be your job to keep him appeased, you know. You’ll make the meetings, manage my tricksters, put the fear of gods into those humans out there, all in the name of Loki, while I…”_

_“Party?”_

_“Yes,” Loki drawls. He smiles at me again, patting my cheek. “I’ll miss that other look you had. I found your boy quite beautiful, but too noticeable. Now, you can hide in plain sight. But…” His smile dims. “You have to promise me one thing, before I truly let you take my place.”_

_“What’s that?” Loki’s voice coming out of my mouth is surreal. It’s higher than I’m used to, and I doubt it can sing well. I practice saying “I am Loki! I am the king of tricksters. I am Loki Odinson. I am…” I stop at Loki’s glare. “Oh, sorry. What’s the promise? I’ll make it.”_

_Loki steps into my breathing space, nose to nose. “You’ll keep the affairs of your family out of the affairs of mine. That Judeo-Christian business isn’t part of your life anymore. You don’t consort with them, they don’t bring trouble to my people, and we have a deal.”_

_“Loki, I’m running away. Why would I consort with them?”_

_“Because you love them, Gabriel,” Loki says flatly. “You’re leaving because you can’t bear to see them hurt each other. Can you resist checking in? Wanting to meet up with one of your feather-brains for a little afternoon flight? What about your Raphael, the one you wanted to come with you? You can’t attempt to contact him anymore, even if it’s just to continue to persuade him to leave. Even if he does leave…”_

_I swallow. “But if he leaves…”_

_“Ah,” Loki raises a finger. “See, I’ve got your number, and this is why you have to swear to me. A blood oath, I think. Those are binding. I’ll know if you break it, and I will come seeking vengeance. I am a liar, but I don’t like being lied to.”_

_I touch my new face, its warm and yielding. I feel my fingers as if I’m touching my own skin—because it is my skin. I am Loki. I am Loki Odinson. King of Tricksters and refugee from Heaven. I can’t go back. Not while I wear this face, and who knows how long I will._

_“For as long as I wear your face and assume your identity, I am true to only you. Your tasks are mine, and I will have no contact with Heaven or its creatures. You have my word, and…” I hold a hand for Loki to cut with one of his sharp tools “…my blood as bond”_

_The hatred in his eyes—the pure loathing and rage. He truly thinks I betrayed him. Odin is dead, Baldur, whom he hated, is dead—and my brother was responsible. He’d brought me into his home, hugged me, let his children embrace me, but all this time he hated me._

_I let him kick me, and kick me, and punch me—until I remember the demon he sold me to, the one that raped me. That violated me. That poisoned me and stole from me and defiled me and made me into a beast that begged and crawled and moaned because he’d bound my lips, and…and… The wooden sword finds my hand, and my hand rams it through his gut, severing the spine and traveling up into his heart. The organ pumps until there’s no more blood to geyser,_

_Loki drops to the floor and I stare at him, through eyes I haven’t used in centuries. I let the sword fall, ignore the blood on my hands as I find a mirror to gaze at my face—his face. My Cye. A being who never, ever hurt me. Gone—so far gone, but at least I have this again, the true form of my vessel. Still violated, raw, weak, useless, poisoned, pathetic…_

_The body of Loki, the face I’d worn, the face of a once friend. He wouldn’t have hurt me if he hadn’t thought… But it wasn’t my fault. I didn’t break the vow. I’d tried to help. I tried to talk them out of challenging Lucifer and Heaven. There was nothing I could do, but die. Would Loki have preferred I died?_

_Death would have been better than what he’d done to me. He sent me to Asmodeus. Sold me. Had hated me that much. Because I…_

_I stand and live for nothing._

_He said it._

_I want to change._

_I agree to help the Winchesters, because I want to change._

_But can I?_

 

* * *

~*~

           

            A dull glow works its way beneath my eyelids and my eyes flutter open at the sound of something beeping near my ear. I moan as something hard tickles my earlobe and turn my head slightly to see Castiel holding something up to his face.

            “What…?”

            Castiel glazed from the device to me. “Are you awake again?”

            “Yes.” My dry throat closes on the word, making me cough until I see bright lights and dark spots. Strong arms help me sit up and a metal straw touches my lips. I sip slowly, wincing as lukewarm water wets my tongue and stings down my throat. It burns like acid, but I’m so thirsty that I keep drinking. It takes me a minute to realize that Castiel’s holding the cup while my hands rest in my lap. I lean my head back, releasing the straw and he puts the cup down.

            “What were you doing earlier?” I rasp, my voice is rough and weak.

            “Taking your temperature, 102.2. It’s gone down,” Castiel says. “How are you feeling?”

            I think about that—tallying all the pounding aches in my bones, the Jell-O quality of my muscles, the flaming power saw in my chest, and the burning coals in my throat. Moth balls clog my head and sinuses. “Ask me that after my funeral. I want to be buried at sea, a nice barge decorated Greco-Roman style. There should be an electric guitar chorus playing ‘No Good Deed’ from _Wicked_ on repeat.”

            “You’re better,” Castiel says, a tired smile cracks his face, softening his features. “Good. You had us very worried.”

            I frown at him, wanting to lie back down, but instead he props pillows behind me to keep me upright. “How long have I been out of it?” Flashbacks of the church and Lucifer’s vessel hit me and my head spins.

            “Whoa, easy,” Castiel steadies me. He looks at me, as if sizing me up, and takes my wrist, timing my pulse. “You’ve been delirious for nearly two weeks. Sam thought we should take you to a hospital, but then you started setting things on fire and—well… that would not be a good thing to do around normal humans. So, we treated you here. We looked up the medicine we thought a human with your symptoms would need and, for the ones we needed prescriptions for…”

            “You little bandits,” I croak with a rusty laugh that makes me cough more. The world goes gray and I feel Castiel rubbing my back and keeping me from falling sideways off the bed.

            “Have some more water.” The straw touches my lips again, and I drink.

            “It’s good to actually talk to you,” Castiel says after a minute. He puts the cup away again and straightens up. “You rambled a lot, you talked to God some, and Raphael, and Michael, and Loki, even Lucifer.”

            My heart shudders. “I dreamed.”

            “And had nightmares too,” Castiel says and waits as if he thinks I’m going to add something. What does he want me to add?

            My head’s too big for my neck, I feel myself slumping forward and Castiel catches me again. “Let’s lie you back down. You still need more rest.”

            I let him move me, fluff pillows, prop my head higher than the rest of my body to make breathing easier, pull the covers up to my chin as my teeth chatter.

            “When you wake up again, maybe we’ll try some soup or crackers,” Castiel says softly. The light goes out, but I can still see in the dark. I see his form retreating, heading for the door.

            “No,” I call to him.

            He pauses and turns.

            “Please don’t go.”

            He comes back to my bedside. There’s a chair beside the nightstand. He sits in it, peering at me. “I was going to send Jack in to take my place. We take turns sitting here. It’s not good to leave you alone for long. You start fires.”

  
            Fires—celestial blue and hellish orange. I saw them both, but I don’t know which had been real, dream, or memory. “Mm…sorry,” I mumble.

            “It’s all right,” Castiel says. “You only did it because you were afraid. But you do it less, when we sit here and talk to you.”

            I take in his words, these people, Team Save the World, who welcomed me with open arms despite my deceptions and cowardice and selfishness. They cared for me when I was mindless, stayed by me when I was no help, sit here now when I’m pathetic and weak. They’ve said it, I’m part of them now, and they take care of their own.

            Family.

            Not God. Not Michael or Raphael. And…damn you, Lucifer, not him.

            But they’re here.

            Before my eyes close, I manage to mumble, “Thank you” and hear a soft, “You’re welcome, brother.”

            Sleep comes easy.

 

* * *

 

 

_End of Part One: Until You Fall_

 

_Next story: Until You Fight_


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